So, the other day, I lost my job. I didn’t get fired. I had actually just given notice to leave my job in three weeks but, knowing that I was just being antagonized into quitting, because I’m white, I just stepped aside and let them have their little victory and their laughs, before my damaged brain misfired and I ended up very scary in front of a number of scared little teenagers and a manager whose management style is to call out “Pueracita! Los nina” and then throw the person speaking out like so much garbage.
But it’s okay. They are rid of the white threat of a broken, lonely, sick homeless man who is doing all he can to just do right.
Yup. I’m exactly the kind of threat these dopeheads in fast food need to target for elimination.
Must stop the white man from having a damn thing ever again.
The lake is here, though. I can always just pitch rocks into the water, as opposed to returning to the synthetic opioids to get my feelings back right again.
I can always just remember to return to those simple, child-like pleasures again, if I am ever to make it back to being a man again.