I remembered what I wanted to say.
Dad’s obnoxious. But we all knew that. No wonder he has no friends.
But me, I deserve friends and it’s a great injustice that I have none. I’m a better person than my dad.
What I wanted to say was:
I’m lacking and desperately searching for the inspiration to get work done, to create beautiful combinations of words.
Dad likes to buy garbage. He likes to spend his hard-earned money on garbage, and then fill up our family’s house, where we all live, try to live, at least, with said garbage. To make it ugly so we become depressed, and to make it crowded so we have no where to live.
And if you call him out in this madness, he becomes aggressive.
He’s not normal. He’s a violent animal.
He belongs behind bars.
Judge, I hereby grant you him the judgement. Best wise.