I wrote this on a piece of paper weeks ago and put it in my desk

By Joe Cunningham






I wrote this on a piece of paper weeks ago and put it in my desk.
It’s still there.
I’m doing this from memory.

All of this seems like ancient history.



I don’t know why I’m writing this. It’s burning a hole in my desk, I suppose.
I’m doing better now. I don’t think about this stuff as much.
I got the lead in a movie. My business is doing good.
I decided to be positive. It worked.



I fixed a lot of things recently.
After my grandfather died I realized life’s too short not to.
He was somethin else. He was the real thing.



To my son, Harrison: I love you.

I love you more than anything.
When you read this someday and understand
I want you to know I’m sorry for all the times you saw me fall down because of this shit.
When all the veins came out of my head and I had to look away from you.
I’m hiding it all real good now.
I hope you never see that again.
I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.







To [NAME]:
You were in 6th grade when I was in kindergarten and I know now you didn’t know what you were doing but I didn’t know either and now I do.

To whatever the fuck your name is:
I’ve been in that kitchen for half my life.
I just got out.
I know you probly don’t remember.
Your husband does.
I hate you.
Maybe you could describe to my ex-girlfriends what you did to me.
I know I couldn’t.
I know you probly couldn’t either.
You’re the reason I didn’t drink alcohol for a long time.



To that piece of shit rotting somewhere in Mexico:
I hope you’re in the bottom of that place you told us about,
Along with everyone that knew.






To the priest in Dublin:
Fuck you, man.
You’re just slime.

To the one we saw a lot more:
If I ever see you again it will be the last time.



To my sister Katie:
I fucking hate you for what you did to Ben.
He was like a son to me.
I know you’ll never understand what it feels like to look at you from where I’ve been.
I see you in them.
I wish I had been there instead of in that concentration camp for all those years.
Shit woulda played out differently.
I don’t care how sorry you are.



I forgave a lot of people that hurt me recently,
None of you made the list.
You’re not entitled to be on it.
If there’s a god who can forgive you for that there’s somethin wrong with him.



To that fucker in Thornwood:
It took me a long time to figure that shit out.
I figured it out.
I’m ok now.

To my extended family:
I love you.
I don’t think you’re ever gonna understand that you're never gonna understand me.
And all the bullshit is bullshit.




To all the people who thought they knew me when:
I’m never gonna be who you wanted me to be.
I’m ok with that.
It’s time for you to be.

I'm fucking amazing anyways.

To all the haters:
Go do somethin.




To my parents:
I love you so much. 

And I appreciate what you did for us.
But I hate you for what you did to us,
And I hate you more because you will never understand because you hold onto your beliefs like they are more important than we are.
I don’t expect you to ever understand.
I decided not to try anymore. In that regard.

You can read my book when it is done.
It’s called Let Me Down Gently.
My movie is an analogy.
I love you though.








To my friends:
I’m sorry I was gone for so long.
I’m back.

To my brothers and Llazmin:
Same.

To Lucy:
Don’t be like them.
I know that’s not gonna stop you.

To Haylee and Hayden:
I never cheated on your mom.
I will always love you but it’s better this way.

I hope you understand.

To Michelle:
I know what you did.
I don’t ever wanna see you again.




To [NameLastname]:
I understand now.
I’m sorry it took me so long.
This is why.
I’m ok now.
I know you are too.

To the girl I’m gonna be with:
You just gotta give me a second sometimes;
I’ll be alright, I promise.
Just hug me and don’t ask me why.
I promise I’ll do the same.


I'm Batman.

To Kevin:
I will always feel what you are feeling.

To Drew:
I love you.
Don’t ever doubt it.
That’s why I wrote it.

To Johnny Allen:
I know what happened to you in that field.
I was there.
I been there many times since you died there.

To Brian:
I know everything.

The blood is rushing through my body I can’t even move.

I’m running mountains again.
Fuck, it feels good.

I can see all the beautiful things now.





Hemingway said “write one true thing.”
I wrote more than one.
But if I had to pick just one it’d be
For me to say to all my shadows-

“You will never beat me,
You will never beat me.”