1:43 AM. I don't believe it. Those kids down the hall are still going. They live in eternal youth as just a few feet away I'm moaning on the floor rolling naked in pain. These nighttime attacks won't leave me alone. A lifetime of chickens have come home to roost. I'm trapped in every direction. Demons in the dark torment me asking what have I done to deserve my massive money. Demons in the day torment me without my massive money. Some free ride this is.
The brain pain drives me insane. Still, I manage to poke through to imagine what this scene must look like in the eyes of heaven with a naked millionaire crawling on the carpet as rich kids outside the door rule the world without a second thought. I'm possessed by fear of the idea of them seeing me in this state. I feel like it would invalidate my life. Why? Why?
Oh, that's why. Because that's me out there - or was twenty years ago. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My worst fears have come true. I really am nothing. Goddam I wanted to keep this a secret. All those years wasted partying; I knew I was like a car running out of gas and I better find some before it's too late. If the people who saw me then could see me now I'd be mocked for the rest of my days.
That's a dead end too
Of course, now I think about it, many of my asshole friends ended up broken too. They were just smart enough to hide it with marriage contracts, business contracts, or soul contracts. I'm the only one who ended up exposed. How much longer does this free-falling last?
I have a "door ding" Honda I use for places where I don't feel safe to park an exotic. As a test of my self-worth, I took it down to Bob's Steak House on Lemmon. There's never any parking there so it's only valet. Even early in the evening you can at least find a couple of Bentleys parked up front. They always park the best ones there to show off. I never failed to take an exotic before but this time I took the Honda. Oh, boy.
The Woman Of Fabric could take any car there and still be as wonderful as she is. But me? I was conscious of the Honda the whole time I was eating my steak. Is the waiter looking at me differently? Do they consider me an interloper, a fraud, a poser living beyond his means? Shit, all I wanted to do was eat and get the hell out of there. I tried but I never could relax or feel comfortable. I kept feeling like I had to explain my car!
Test failed - miserably.
Will be a long time before I go back to Bob's - if ever. How can I explain myself for driving a crummy car especially after Park Place located a Bora for me of which I just took delivery. I felt my image permanently stained. This is all such a mind fuck!
I headed back to the penthouse too. Was weird seeing it empty and alone with an outsider's eyes. No, I didn't miss it, after all. Someone will be thrilled with it but the luster is gone for me. It'll be snatched up soon, I'm sure. Letting go was actually a rare good decision for me. Now if I could just find a place to go to.
The Woman Of Fabric was sent to save me. But like the savages of old I betrayed my savior. Hating myself for it won't solve anything but I can't stop the self-recrimination. Sharks sense this vulnerability and coupled with my money I seem a juicy target. It's a hell of an effort to remain on guard but in moments like this in the middle of the night crying out in agony I'm ripe for the picking and can't help it. I feel it's vitally important I keep this state hidden at all costs. I also feel it's equally important the whole world knows about it.
Stuck between the two, I free-fall. What are my options? Money won't save me. Believe me, I've tried every which way possible. Dead ends gagging on a silver spoon. Man, I'm tired. I want to die before everyone finds out what a fuck up I've been. I was supposed to live fast, die young and have a good looking corpse. Never thought about after. I was supposed to be dead by now.
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