Letters to Fetty,


My mother is disappointed in you; you’ve broken her heart. Before you have even opened your eyes to see the brilliance of the world or experienced your first wonderful sounds, you’ve hurt someone. Like father, like _____.

I want you to know that from this day forward (actually a few weeks ago, but no matter) everything that I do will be for me and you. Nothing else matters. Spread as much love as you possibly can Fetty, please. There is a dire shortage of it out here. Almost as if it’s such a precious commodity that people would rather hoard it and watch it deteriorate, than share it with others so that it can grow. 

Hopefully by the time you’re able to start understanding life for yourself (I say when we have our first conversation about existentialism) that our lives have panned out nicely. I don’t want to get degrees just for the sake of having degrees. Do what you love my child, and try your darnedest to spread it to everyone. You hear me? No matter how much hate, or spite or pain you may have to endure. Even if it seems like you’re constantly hurting people unintentionally or losing loved ones. Even if everything you have ever known about the life that you’ve been living turns out to be a lie. Even if you can’t imagine seeing tomorrow. Still. Love. That’s all there ever is, that’s all there ever really will be.

Hate is real, Love is real. Choose wisely.

Love you to forever and back,



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