What if I told you I was a fictional hero?

By the time I hit my 20s, I had grown tired of being a kid.

I was too tired.

It was the middle of the night, and I had no money to buy my first book, and so I decided I wanted to be a fictional character.

I had a very particular love for my father, the man who was an architect and the man I loved most in my life, my father’s grandfather.

I grew up with him in his basement, in a place called Northumberland County, near the mouth of the Thames River, and he was a very private man.

He never talked about himself publicly.

He was a private man and never spoke about himself to anyone except his children and his grandchildren.

And I was always able to find some of his thoughts on his blog, which is called “The Great Architect of London,” because it’s a very secret place.

And one day, my mother came over and she just sort of put my father down and said, “Well, you’re a fictional villain.”

She had a real point to make.

In this fictionalized version of my father and his life, there was a lot of bullying.

He suffered from depression, he suffered from anorexia, he had a terrible personality disorder, which led to a violent and abusive relationship with his wife, who was in her 50s and I think she had mental illness, who he abused.

He would come home at night and he’d hit her with a shovel.

And my mother would say, “Don’t be angry.

I know what you need to do.”

And he would hit her, and she would cry.

And he said, well, I’ll get a job.

And she said, no, you’ll get hurt.

And so she would come over and say, look, Dad, you know, I just need you to think about your own feelings, and you have to think carefully about how you act.

My mother would sit and she’d just talk to him about it.

And so he would go to the store and he would buy something, and then he would just buy another box of gum, and another box.

And then he’d buy another piece of gum.

And another piece.

And finally he would get a toothbrush and he wouldn’t even brush.

He’d just brush his teeth.

And he would do this all the time.

And, I mean, he’d come home one day and he just was just, he was just like, I don’t know, he didn’t do any work.

He wasn’t even cooking.

He didn’t even clean the house.

And his mother said, Well, Dad.

What do you need from me?

He said, I need you, my wife, to love me.

And when she saw that, my heart just sank.

And it was the first time she had ever seen me that way.

And that was the moment she said she would leave me.

So my dad was the man that I wanted, and my mother, she would never leave me, never.

And they never got married.

They didn’t get divorced.

And eventually, I met my father.

And we became a couple.

And all my life he would tell me stories.

And the stories are all the same.

And like every day, I’d go to bed and think, Well what am I going to do tonight?

What am I ever going to write?

What are my next books going to be?

And he’d say, Well now, this is what I’m going to tell you about.

And I think I still have the same thoughts.

I think there’s a lot more to me that I don