Freddie, you’re a pretty boy fool.
You need to understand that YOU WILL GET RAPED IN PRISON. There is no doubt about it, so you better start behaving better or else you will get into serious trouble soon. How much longer can you go on living like this? Don’t tell me you’re not doing drugs and drinking with the rest of that trashy group you hang out with in the city.
It’s a crying shame, the way you’ve turned out. You could be so much better but you’re throwing it all away. What is wrong with you? You grew up in a nice neighbourhood, you always had lots of toys, you’re good looking and didn’t even have acne or braces for fucks sake. Girls stare at you, and instead of making the most of all your good traits, you mope around in a constant state of confusion, depression, mood swings, only half-committing to everything.
You’re naturally smart but you didn’t try hard in high school, you didn’t bother with college, so you went to trade school TWICE, and you haven’t stuck with it. Okay, maybe I’m being too harsh; you did finish the second time, but you’re doing nothing with your diploma. Why the fuck did you study boat mechanics for two years, if you’re not going to apply for jobs in that area of employment? Just admit it: you’re not ready for the party to be over, you’re not ready to be mature and responsible—that’s why you work in a casino, living with a wannabe porn-star roommate.
When are you going to grow up, Freddie? Your mother is sick of worrying about you all the time. Don’t give me that crap, “I’m 22, I don’t need my mother’s permission to do things.” You go missing constantly and she calls you to make sure you’re not dead. I know you’re an adult, but your mom worries about you, and the least you can do is have the decency to reply back---it’s not right to keep her in the dark for weeks. You have a history of getting blackout drunk and making bad decisions. When you were a teenager, I had to drag you out of neighbor’s gardens because you’d fallen asleep drunk and they were threatening to call the cops; you drove drunk straight off a pier; you got an older girl pregnant at 15 because you were too drunk and stupid you use a condom. You fell asleep on train tracks once and the only reason you weren’t sliced in two is because a passerby woke you up.
What’s it gonna take for you to grow the hell up? You’ll be 23 next month. Yeah, you’re young, but you’re too old to be floating around like this. Time flies and before you know it you’ll be middle aged with a addiction issues and no career path. You’re siblings are miles ahead of you—Melissa is a paramedic who saves lives; Jason just graduated law school this summer and he already has a job in a top law firm. And look at you—a certified boat mechanic who works in a casino, lives with a porn star, dates crazy girls, gambles too much, ignores his own parents’ phone calls.
Your mother got a call from the police last month because you were found passed out on the beach. Alcohol poisoning, so close to the sea. You had to be taken to a hospital for the night to avoid endangering yourself with your drunken recklessness.
All I can say is you’re damn lucky that idiot girl had an abortion because you should never have kids. Imagine if she’d kept it; right now, you’d have a 7-year-old child. There’s no way you’d cope. I don’t care if you’re not an alcoholic; you’re drunk often enough that it gets in the way of your life.
All I can say is I’m glad I’m not your real dad because if I was, man, I’d be ashamed to admit it. Kevin, that useless dad of yours, never thought you a damn thing about life—he just spoiled you and treat you like a friend, and this is the result—a disaster. You are bipolar; I don't care if you don't accept that; you need to be medicated because these mood swings are too much--you're fine for a few months, then crash and spiral. This won't end well. Sort yourself out.