Don't speak to me of vague disaster, I was once like you. I sat, fingernails deep and pondered, thought myself righteous in my pondering. Tedious. It all seems so tedious. Don't tell me your lament, I've heard it - from rooftops high and from underneath the streets where the ragged people meet. Please look away when you lie to me. Give me that at least, the dignity - let us pretend that we are not merely broken marionettes avoiding the trash bin. You owe me that much.
Son, he said. Son, you gotta just get in there and bust some heads. Fucking grab some of that shit and fuck the people at the bottom of the pile. Never did seem right.
I get by, and I'm not here for your withering looks of dismal recognition. I'm not here because it's sloppy joe night or because of any sense of obligation. I am here because my life has become an exercise in resignation. Stagnation. And as much as you keep asking for it, I won't buy your salvation.
I believe in consequences.