Listen, Mom. Dad. I've been doing a lot of thinking, and...Okay, I'm just gonna say it. I want to move out.
I care about you so much, and the past 22 years have meant so much to me. We've had some great times: my first steps, going on college tours, that time you yelled at me when you caught me sneaking out to smoke weed in the woods. Remember that? Haha.
But for the last few years, I've been feeling like it's just not the same. We're in such different places than when I was born; we have different priorities. You've been spending a lot of time talking about bridge, and the couples cruise you took to Greece, and whether to remodel the kitchen. And that's great! I'm happy for you. But those things just aren't important to me.
And I've been so busy with work, and the truth is, I'm just not interested in being in a serious parent-child relationship right now. No, you didn't do anything wrong. You've been great parents. That's why I haven't done this before now. But it's time. We both know it's time.
Fine, yes, I know I've changed too. But that's a good thing. When this relationship started, I wanted to be with you all the time. Remember? I would cry if you left the room. I mean, it wasn't healthy. I'm finally starting to feel like I don't need a parent to feel whole. I can pay my own phone bill now, you know? And that feels good. I want to own that.
No, it's not that I've outgrown you. It's that we've both outgrown this relationship.
You want me to be honest? Fine! I'll be honest! You're getting a little clingy. Every night, it's "come to my book club" this and "go grocery shopping with me" that. And when we do spend time together, it's not the same as it was. You barely ever give me awkward speeches about safe sex anymore, and when you do, it feels perfunctory, like we're just going through the motions. Honestly, at this point, we're roommates more than anything else.
You're great old people. You're just not great parents. Not anymore.
I still want you in my life. Just, not in the same way. We can still be friends. You can still email me newspaper articles about how difficult it is for my generation to get jobs in this economy and Powerpoints full of inspirational quotes.
Yeah, we'll talk all the time. I promise. You're always going to be part of my life. And don't go having a new kid move in in a week, okay? Haha.
Okay. I guess I should get going. Take care of yourselves.
Wait, before I go. Just...once more, for old time's sake. Can you...ask me to explain how the printer works?