It's wonderful that you care, I am not saying it isn't. When I was little I wanted nothing more than attention from you. I wanted to be your favorite. I wanted to be loved by you best. No matter how hard I tried though, I wasn't good enough. I was too much like you. You hated me because you saw me make all the mistakes you made; you were watching yourself fail all over again. And you withdrew.
But now you're back again. Suddenly it hits you that maybe fucking up for the last fifteen years has had some sort of effect on me. Suddenly you have all of this responsibility again. As I said, it's great that you care; but you're fifteen years too late and your timing is way off.
Where was that parental instinct to protect your young when you had me on the fucking floor crying? Where was your empathy when you cheated on my mother seven times? Where was it when you hit her?
Where was your fucking unconditional love when you threatened to put me up for adoption, and told me to get out of your house?
You're fifteen years too late, Dad.