Life isn't perfect.
Did you know that? Did you ever expect to hear that? Is it news to you?
I'm a dick, and so are you.
I try not to be. A dick. When I remember. But mostly. I'm thinking about other things.
Like lunch.
Or those flies. Always the flies. Why do they hang around me?
Flies, I can do without.
So what were we talking about? You, I guess. Why are you such a dick?
Can't you try harder, keep in touch with my feelings, stand up straight and act more like a responsible person? It would help.
It would help me. I have enough problems without bringing you and all your baggage into the equation. And it isn't really an equation either.
Which maybe is why some of this doesn't pencil out, trying to fit everything that happens into a formula like stuffing trash into a bag but with all the odd ends and points and dribbling it doesn't turn out so neat. So neatly.
Precision instruments do not function optimally in this world we have wandered into. I wish. But no.
But I think the problem is mostly you. Without dealing with you and your friends and relatives and most of the other people around here I could do OK, do better at least. If you weren't such a dick, at least that's what I think.
Am I wrong to think this?
Don't bother answering I don't care what you think since I'm always right. So think it over and agree with me.
But you don't need to bother telling me about it. I don't want to hear from you any more.
What more can I say?