You know what isn't fun?
When my dad calls.
Which is only like, once a year. Maybe once every one and a half years.
He asks me the same questions each time.
"How are you?"
"How are your sisters? Your mom? Randall?"
"Done anything fun lately?"
"Paint any pretty pictures lately?"
"Seen any good movies lately?"
"How is school going?"
"Hung out with your friends lately?"

And I answer the same each time.
"Good."
"Good, good, good."
"Not really."
"Yup."
"Nope."
"Good."
"Not really."

And then I hang up and cry for fifteen minutes.
My mom asks me why, and I say, "I don't know."
I do know. It's guilt. GUILT I DO NOT DESERVE.
I shouldn't be feeling bad when it's HIM that hasn't been the responsible parent. It's HIM that when I went to Brazil, would go out at night without even saying where.
I just don't know how to get rid of the guilt.
I mean, he doesn't even get the big picture. He doesn't see that I'm unhappy with how he's been acting the past few years. And I wish he would.

What else isn't fun?
Well, I can't write about boy problems on the internet.