I don't believe in in first impressions. Not in the since of making the first encounter lasting or memorable or positive, but in the since of just walking into the room like someone squeeze lemon juice down my butt crack. I've never been the type schmooze. I hang out with my wang out and to hell with anyone that doesn't care for it. There's seven billion people in the world. I'm not the only one they can talk to.
I've had one or two friends that look at me a tad peculiar due to my taste in music, women, and use of language, both poetic and profane. For the most part they've learned to deal with it. But I doubt they truly understand it, or that they want to. Well this is their lucky day (and yours)...
10 years I've lived in this pit called the bible belt, and the one constant I've had to deal with (besides incurably religious friends and family) is death. In the past decade I've been to an average of one funeral a year. Among the first were my grandmother and the youngest of my older sisters, the one I grew up with. Over the next few years it was uncles and cousins and finished out with my mom and my dad. When you have to stomach THAT MUCH loss, when you're knocked back that many times, you can either wolf down your meds, ball up in a corner and die (a thought that still crosses my mind at least once a day) OR you can get up and live. Pull yourself out of bet, and find another reason to ride this bitch until the wheels fall off. And that's pretty much what I've doing the past several months. No time stamp, no apologies, no fucks given. Fuck what friends have to say about it, fuck what family has to say about it, fuck the bros, fuck the girlfriend. And that cunt of a waitress on the other side of the room who can't keep her nose out of the conversation, along with the simp nigga next to you that co-signs on her bullshit and laughs in your face on YOUR FUCKING BIRTHDAY, fuck them too.
It's really that simple. Not the most cogent thing I've had to say, but it's honest. I feel like that's all I can give lately.
I've had one or two friends that look at me a tad peculiar due to my taste in music, women, and use of language, both poetic and profane. For the most part they've learned to deal with it. But I doubt they truly understand it, or that they want to. Well this is their lucky day (and yours)...
10 years I've lived in this pit called the bible belt, and the one constant I've had to deal with (besides incurably religious friends and family) is death. In the past decade I've been to an average of one funeral a year. Among the first were my grandmother and the youngest of my older sisters, the one I grew up with. Over the next few years it was uncles and cousins and finished out with my mom and my dad. When you have to stomach THAT MUCH loss, when you're knocked back that many times, you can either wolf down your meds, ball up in a corner and die (a thought that still crosses my mind at least once a day) OR you can get up and live. Pull yourself out of bet, and find another reason to ride this bitch until the wheels fall off. And that's pretty much what I've doing the past several months. No time stamp, no apologies, no fucks given. Fuck what friends have to say about it, fuck what family has to say about it, fuck the bros, fuck the girlfriend. And that cunt of a waitress on the other side of the room who can't keep her nose out of the conversation, along with the simp nigga next to you that co-signs on her bullshit and laughs in your face on YOUR FUCKING BIRTHDAY, fuck them too.
It's really that simple. Not the most cogent thing I've had to say, but it's honest. I feel like that's all I can give lately.
