Dear Fam, yet again:

Over a week ago I asked you to mail a package that had been misdelivered to Unc's house. Normally I would have just waited and gotten it when I was pulled, kicking and screaming, back into the clutches of Saint Louis. Unfortunately, the package contains Maddo's birthday present, and since she is going abroad next semester, she kind of needs it now.

Fast forward to today. I call you to ask when you sent the package, and you of course have yet to get around to doing it.

"Do you still want me to send it? You're going to be back here in a week and a half."
"Yes, I know, but Maddo's birthday was on Sunday."
"So I should still send it?"
"That would be a yes."
"Look, I'm sorry."
"That package was really important."
"I know, and I'm trying to apologize. I'll mail it first thing tomorrow."
"..."

My mother used to tell me "sorry doesn't cut it." I mean, sure, I'm glad you're remorseful, but how hard is it to pull your head out of your ass and pay attention to what's important to someone else for two seconds? You said you knew it was important, but evidently you still didn't see the need to care.

I can't count on you for anything, but unfortunately I'm still occasionally required to try. Do you even listen when I speak? Considering all the times you've picked up the phone and called people when I was in mid-sentence about something, I'll have to go with no.

Fuck you,
Wren. Not Lauren, Wren, who would like to matter to you once in a while.