Franz told me he understands the way I am. With all his mighty wisdom he thinks I’m too soft because I grew up in an environment of people who supported me. From my mother Hedwig, my sister Yvonne, and brothers Erkan and Peter.

Fuck I was so lucky to have them. Particularly with a narcissistic beast of man that my father Franz is.

What Franz fails to acknowledge is the fact that I did grow up with a father who was reckless and unpredictable. He’s predictably unpredictable. He is manipulative.

The kind of guy who would take his newly adopted son to a strip club and offer to buy him a blowjob under the table.

The stories about old man Franz are endless. Who the fuck is he to think I grew up in a soft environment? Maybe it was? But he’s the fucker that makes me think I was hard done by.

He’s no model father to me. He made me who I am, but to the antithesis of who he is and the tithesis of my mother.