And in an instant, I've lost my mother.
No, she isn't dead but, she definitely hates me. Fine. Whatever. So what. I'm doubting that she ever wanted me around in the first place. I know for a fact that I was an accident. No condoms or birth control could hold me back. So here I am, after bursting out of that sack and into a microscopic egg, in a human woman, in California, in the United States of America, on a planet named Earth by it's inhabitants, in a solar system, in the milky way galaxy, in some sort of nebula, that's billions of years old, in a big fucking universe, filled with billions and billions of other galaxies, filled with shit-tons of other California's. And there's possibility of a fucking parallel universe? Maybe more than one? With other dimensions and shit? Fuck man.
So here I am twenty one years later and I can't figure out what the fuck I'm doing here. Geez... Boy do I feel like I've screwed up. I'm supposed to be a musician? Well what the hell? What am I doing about it? Nothing... Just distraction, after distraction, after distraction. I need to get the hell out of Dodge and focus for once. Where's the talent? What do I have to show for it? It's been ten years, almost eleven. Come on. You've gotta keep up. Stop doubting. Or doubt forever, I don't care right now. Be a resentful old man if you want. Be a child forever. Who cares? If you don't who will? Start saying yes. Yes Yes Yes. If you want this, just say yes. Stop fucking around kid. Remember, When in doubt, go with what you know.
I haven't had a real Christmas in who knows how long... I can't remember when we stopped getting trees to decorate. And there's the problem, no tradition. Matt complains about his family getting together once a year and spending some time together on one specific day; Christmas. Maybe one day he'll value this time shared. Then again, Matt complains about everything.
My Sister. The Lion. The Beast. She can run her mouth on and on all day to anyone about anything but, cannot hold a conversation with our mother. Cannot. Why? Because they're both stubborn like sticks. Because both my mother and my sister are equally difficult. I once thought that I couldn't match them with anyone else until I realized that they are the same. One is just younger and more hostile. The other, old, bitter, and unforgiving. I, the mediator no more. Fuck it. Leave me the fuck alone. It's already been established that I am the problem here. What do you do when you can't change someone's mind? You fuck off. So, here I am; Fucking Off. I'm done. I've tried. I've tried. I've tried. Some things in life aren't meant to be. Which I think is a valuable piece of advice. SOME THINGS IN LIFE AREN'T MEANT TO BE. I'm not wasting my time anymore. Enough of that. I'm done playing good son. I'm done playing the "Be There Ranger." Today is my day. Today is the reckoning of the damage from the past. I am a damaged man. I will walk with pride. My demons are my own. To live with. To fight. To carry on throughout my life. I am driving. I am in control. This is just a bump on the road.
No, she isn't dead but, she definitely hates me. Fine. Whatever. So what. I'm doubting that she ever wanted me around in the first place. I know for a fact that I was an accident. No condoms or birth control could hold me back. So here I am, after bursting out of that sack and into a microscopic egg, in a human woman, in California, in the United States of America, on a planet named Earth by it's inhabitants, in a solar system, in the milky way galaxy, in some sort of nebula, that's billions of years old, in a big fucking universe, filled with billions and billions of other galaxies, filled with shit-tons of other California's. And there's possibility of a fucking parallel universe? Maybe more than one? With other dimensions and shit? Fuck man.
So here I am twenty one years later and I can't figure out what the fuck I'm doing here. Geez... Boy do I feel like I've screwed up. I'm supposed to be a musician? Well what the hell? What am I doing about it? Nothing... Just distraction, after distraction, after distraction. I need to get the hell out of Dodge and focus for once. Where's the talent? What do I have to show for it? It's been ten years, almost eleven. Come on. You've gotta keep up. Stop doubting. Or doubt forever, I don't care right now. Be a resentful old man if you want. Be a child forever. Who cares? If you don't who will? Start saying yes. Yes Yes Yes. If you want this, just say yes. Stop fucking around kid. Remember, When in doubt, go with what you know.
I haven't had a real Christmas in who knows how long... I can't remember when we stopped getting trees to decorate. And there's the problem, no tradition. Matt complains about his family getting together once a year and spending some time together on one specific day; Christmas. Maybe one day he'll value this time shared. Then again, Matt complains about everything.
My Sister. The Lion. The Beast. She can run her mouth on and on all day to anyone about anything but, cannot hold a conversation with our mother. Cannot. Why? Because they're both stubborn like sticks. Because both my mother and my sister are equally difficult. I once thought that I couldn't match them with anyone else until I realized that they are the same. One is just younger and more hostile. The other, old, bitter, and unforgiving. I, the mediator no more. Fuck it. Leave me the fuck alone. It's already been established that I am the problem here. What do you do when you can't change someone's mind? You fuck off. So, here I am; Fucking Off. I'm done. I've tried. I've tried. I've tried. Some things in life aren't meant to be. Which I think is a valuable piece of advice. SOME THINGS IN LIFE AREN'T MEANT TO BE. I'm not wasting my time anymore. Enough of that. I'm done playing good son. I'm done playing the "Be There Ranger." Today is my day. Today is the reckoning of the damage from the past. I am a damaged man. I will walk with pride. My demons are my own. To live with. To fight. To carry on throughout my life. I am driving. I am in control. This is just a bump on the road.
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