Kevin Madley, Staff Writer

Patrick Roghaar, AKA Pat, AKA Richard, AKA Julia’s boyfriend, is seemingly the perfect teenage boy. He is a straight A student, plays on the varsity baseball team, has a good job, a fantastic group of friends, Julia, and a wonderful family. To an outsider, Pat looks like the pristine example of how to be. However, once you get to know Pat, you learn what’s really inside that falsified exoskeleton of greatness. And what is inside this shell you may be asking; the answer isn’t school appropriate. There are dozens of flaws involving Patrick, most of which came about around homecoming last year. Which, coincidentally of course, was the same time Richard fell head over heels in love with Julia. These flaws include but are not limited to ignoring/ditching the boys, Tik Tok, and his uncanny addiction to packing his gut with impeccable amounts of fast food. The saddest part of all of this is that this poor young man hasn’t the slightest clue of the severity of harm he has and is continuing to bring himself, his wonderful friends, and his amazing family. So, Patrick, if you are reading this just know we all love you and are here for you no matter what you put us through. Admitting you have a problem is the first step to solving it.

Let me tell you a story to put the issue into scale. One day over the summer, the guys were all hanging out and wanted to go get food. We decided to go get pizza somewhere. We texted in our group chats and made some phone calls and before we knew it, we were in route. Someone suggested that we invited Pat. We all kind of giggled. No one had seen Pat outside of baseball in ages. We decided to give it a shot and swung by his house. Many unanswered calls later we decided to knock on his door. His mom answered and was reasonably shocked to see us. She had to trick Patrick out of his room (and probably off of Tik Tok) and lured him into the kitchen where we were all waiting. He was then borderline forced to come get pizza with us. He dragged along the whole day with us and then when dropped off, returned into the blackhole of his bed. The saddest part of this story is that this is the only memory I have of Richard all summer.