The Point

Lately, I find myself wondering "what's the point?" What's the point of trying to do the right thing, help those who need it and shoot for success? From where I sit, I can see none. Not when doing all the above only serves to get you shat upon with a vengeance by those who would fancy themselves your betters. Nice guys really do finish last, it seems.

The only things that keep me going are my friends-- my real friends. They know who they are, or at least, they should by now. More than one of them is in the same boat... knowing that they will spend their entire lives striving for what, in the end, will be nothing. And all the while, those who were born with horseshoes up their asses will skate through life without a care in the world.

That leads me to the other thing that keeps me going-- the chance, no matter how miniscule, that one day I will be able to stick it to the pampered... to somehow, someway, make them feel as tiny and powerless and impotent as I feel now. That chance does exist, so long as I remain alive... so long as I draw breath and hot Irish/Cherokee blood continues to flow through my veins. No matter how long it takes, no matter what I must endure along the way, I know that, just as the proverbial dog, my day, too, will come.

Get ready.

Alone

I dream about you all the time. You, the only two people who ever really gave a damn about me. Oh, I have friends... well, I have many acquaintances. I can count my real friends on less than five fingers. Few in number they may be, but they are loyal... more loyal than I deserve. Every dream is different. You each die a different death. But the end result is always the same.

I'm only existing now. Stuck living with a "father" who respects me so little, who hates me so much, that he does everything he can to up my misery quotient. He knows that I'm in a tight spot. I moved in to his home to do his job for him, to take care of his mother so that he wouldn't have to be bothered with it. I've never really felt as though I were welcome there, though. After all, wasn't I pawned off on you both when it was apparent to him that a kid would cramp his style? And now, with his worthless girlfriend having insinuated herself into the living arrangements since the death of his mother, it seems as though everything possible is being done to run me out of the house and onto the street of my own volition, so he can save face among those who may still be watching.

I've never minded the "pawning off," though. You two were the best parents anyone could have had. I learned more from you both than from anyone else, damn near. My only regret is that you both died without being proud of me. I apologize for that. If it's any consolation, I will probably die without being proud of myself. I will die without having left any lasting mark on the world or anyone in it. I will die as I was born- anonymous.

I will die as I have lived since you both went away.

Alone.