2 Minutes. Go!

This ain't a pool, but it's made for reflection. The dark is only dark, but prime time for deception. You can brush off the cobwebs, sprint toward the nest egg. It don't matter. Illusions scatter. Dreams shatter. Hey, batter batter....

I'm not a fool, but I know insurrection. The night hides the truth from its very conception. Run toward the light, bright, run until you're out of sight. Sit down. Frown. Let your thoughts play around.

Sometimes I'm cruel, but it's often misconception. I act like a dick, but it's for my own protection. I am not some perfect vessel, I am flawed, raw, easy to tears and blood. I slam the door to my brain with a dull thud. But I remember what it was like...to wake up in pain, covered in blood, no memory of the night before. I have spent hours and days and years trying to reconstruct nights because their blankness makes me so uncomfortable. Scared.

There are no rules, no yellow card ejections. You can make it up as you go, chop it into sections. Stack them up and see how high they go, the low blow, the self-loathing. You can hide so much in thrift store clothing. 

I'm done now, and I realize that I often write its/it's wrong. And I hear Antrobus' voice in the back of my head. But I'm trying man. I really am. I get so hot and frantic when I try to think of grammar rules. Besides, it don't matter much anyway.

As long as you can read what the words say.

2 Minutes. Go!

I'm not a rich man, and I doubt I will ever be, but I can do things. I can make you laugh. I can hold you close when the weather is cold. I can think about you more than I think about myself. Or try to. It goes against the wiring. 

I am smart enough to appreciate that I could have fucked everything up so easily. My disorder and your disorder nest like Russian dolls. You tolerated too much, but, lord, I needed that tolerance. It wasn't fair, but it was the way it had to be. 

I don't know much about the world. I don't understand the stock market. I don't really know how a mortgage works because I've never even thought about one. I do think about what it will be like when we are old. Plenty of time to sit and relax. To take walks and talk about life. I'm looking forward to it, but I'm not in any rush. 

If I had all of this to do over again? Honestly, I would probably fuck it up. I'm amazed I didn't fuck it up this time. 

Amazed and grateful. 

2 Minutes. Go!

Step right up, and welcome to the first meeting of "Bullets for Billionaires." We're glad you came out tonight, and we just know that you are going to be an important part of the team. The billionaire class has become parasitic. Though we tried, as an organization, to think of peaceful solutions to this problem, we have come to the realization that there is only one way to stop a billionaire.

In the bag on the table, you will find a t-shirt and a lanyard. Show everyone your pride in the mission, and rally support among the working class! For every person you sign up, there will be a reward. We have plenty of bullets and their are billionaires to spare, so get shooting today! 

Your dues will go to buy bullets, organize cleansings, and reward the avengers. This is a unique opportunity in history. Take the bull-et by the horn, and rejoice in your membership today! Your name will go down in American history, and your great-great-grandchildren will tell your story. 

Don't miss out on this opportunity! It may only come once.