Learned a lot in the last week, though. I am going to marry my girl in Canada someday. Have a family. I reflected on the love I have for my chat, “Let’s Get High,” and the utter disdain I leave behind to the cowards at mmparty. YOU DARE FUCK WITH SOMETHING I LOVE & I WILL BURY YOU.
Human beings have become crybaby cowards. Afraid to actually make a decision, instead always letting another have the balls. “No one told you when to run… you have missed the starting gun.” In my old chat, a bully was allowed to alienate half the room, and the other half slack-jawed their way down schmuck alley, forcing my hand.
I would rather blow my brains out right now than behave as atrociously as most adults do constantly. Making tired excuses, refusing to help others, etc. I realized over the last eight days how little you really need to be happy in this life.
And just like I left behind (and have never once returned to) the weed-room I co-created and eventually lost all say in – to a moron playing Grand Theft Auto all day, no less – Michigan: I’m leaving you.
It just never worked out, eh? You never really gave me an education. My family never really got any true time together. You freeze my metal every winter. And then, when I had nothing left, at my lowest of lows after shattering my heel bone, you denied me disability.
I’m so done! I was just woken up by freezing cold, and when I tried to plug our heater back in, my brother yelled some faggot shit about being the only one with a job; MOTHER FUCKER.
You have any fucking idea how fucking hard I’ve worked every goddamn second of my fucking life? As kids with divorced parents at 4 being the only real man at mom’s; working my ass off in school for 15 years to get into a good school; getting a JOB as soon as I could at 16, also having delivered newspapers and babysat at younger ages; saving up my fucking $5 a week allowance to buy my first car, which was then crashed, totaled and never replaced when I went to college.
THEN I SHATTER MY FUCKING HEEL BONE IN COLLEGE. Been disabled for ten years. Can barely walk without weed. I write maybe 10 real articles a month with limited energy.
SO EXCUSEEE MEEE. Sorry, Michigan, that I didn’t literally die for you. Because that’s all I fucking have left – and I’ll be damned if I’m dying like a bitch.