OK, let's not kid ourselves. I've got no life. No hope of a life. I pee outdoors more than indoors. Heck, I masturbate more outdoors than indoors. My health is eroding from stress. I'm a stupid bitter, bitter man who ran away from his chances. "What the fuck have I got?" I ask myself as I watch Mr. Suit Man get out of his BMW.Well, for one thing, I ain't him. I mean, if that's who you gotta be to drive that car, better off homeless. The fraud. See, my fraudulence kills me, his fraudulence makes him money. He thinks that makes him smart. He just can't figure out why he's so angry.
There's a theater here I go to on occasion where I have to run a gauntlet of beautiful people as it's housed in a very upscale shopping center. You've got trophy wives, self-possessed models, fashionably unshaven dudes - it's quite a scene in all those little outdoor cafes. Part of me wants to shrink away. Part of me wants to laugh.
Point is, I can't be those people. That fact has forced me to the streets. There are people who have gone from eating out of trash cans to extreme success. My decisions have not been so sage, unfortunately. And self-forgiveness is harder than you think. But I still want to be me.
No comments:
Post a Comment