than the one I had perceived. I had chosen to struggle in a cycle of death, a cycle whereby low lives struggle for years over and wind up either dead or in jail.
For some reason I thought it would be up to me to end the struggle whenever I chose like it was some game, a struggle which was in fact life, life in its pure form, all that I was lacking was the necessary humility and complacence and it would all be ok.
I failed to realise that life wasn’t supposed to be peaches and cream, that richer folks simply had bigger bills to pay and had to work even harder and after a while, I realised that some people didn’t even think as far as success, some people were fine with life the way it was, just living everyday as it came. Why was I different? And while a part of me thanked God for that difference, the other half wanted to be normal, wanted to wake up in the morning and go to work, on the bus or train, in the same old shoes and the same old suit, to the same old desk, but with friends to talk to and colleagues to hate and take out my bad days on and go to the pub with after work, trying to get at the same old girls and all that crap because at least everything would be more certain, there would be a pay check at the end of every month. What I had forgotten was that I wasn’t even successful at that normal life. I was always hindered by social incompetence and shyness on the job coupled with my childhood hatred for mankind that never seemed to go away. Who would ever buy life insurance from someone who wouldn’t look them straight in the eye or ever even crack a smile or make nice comments or at least a bit of sucking up or few complements on a nice ladies hair or dress and all that shit? Of course if I worked on