I don't blame you for ratting me out to the cops. And I don't care that you don't want to ever talk to or see me again. You can hate me, disown me, and never ever forgive me. Those are your feelings and opinions, and you are entitled to them. I fucked up, and I know that. I let a drug addiction ruin my life, and I made some terrible decisions and did some really stupid things. But what I can't forgive you for, big brother, is that you won't talk to our brother anymore because he let me crash at his place for the week before I turned myself in. Nor can I forgive you for stopping talking to our mom, refusing to return her calls or texts, and not even allowing her to speak to or see her grandkids (not even to wish them happy birthday or merry Christmas), simply because she wouldn't set me up or incriminate me any further than you already had. You turned your back on and cut off your own family, even the woman who gave birth to and raised you on her own, for the crime of doing what families are supposed to, which is be there for each other. If it were only me you ostracized, I wouldn't care. In fact, I'm even grateful for what you did. You forced my hand, making me turn myself in, which was just the wake-up call I needed to get me to change my life and get clean. But making our mom and our family suffer because of something I did isn't fair. It's fucked up, and no matter how justified and morally superior you may feel, it's wrong and you're wrong for doing it. I hope that when you finally get your wake-up call (for being a pompous dick), your loved ones aren't as self-righteous and unforgiving as you.