I wish I was a better man than the one I pretend not to be.
But I am this terrible, or great, depending on what day of the week you meet me in. Sometimes I curse lies at those who mean the most to me, and other weeks don’t leave much besides second hand friendships that are nice enough to leave you with the lighter.
“You’re a pain my ass,” My father said. “But fuck. You’ll be a fighter.”
Sometime near Spring in college I liked to go out and fuck my life up when there was no getting over those math classes in a Criminal Justice Major. And when I told that asshole of a professor “THERE’S EXCEL FORMULAS THAT DO THIS FOR US,”
He pretended he didn’t hear me.
And no judgment here.
Because I do the same.