People are upset with me.  Upset that I am angry at them.  Upset that they can’t calm my temper.  Upset that I won’t do what they want.

All of this comes back to money.  Money I wasted.  Money I’ll never see again.  I hate money.  I don’t care about material things.  As long as I have legs to carry me, all is right with the world.

Alf offered me a lift out to Boston.  He was headed that way, what difference would it make?  Oh, by the way, can I borrow your brand new mountain bike?

“Sure, Alf.  It’s the only transportation I have.  Just make sure I get it back.  Don’t fuck it up.”

Half a week later my brand new “wheels” are sitting at a Sonoco in Massachusetts.  I doubt I will ever see the fucking thing again.  I told the dumb son of a bitch I wanted my bike back by the end of the week.

I have six weeks here.

I extend a small courtesy and some knucklehead finds a way to fuck me up.  It happens every time.

Alf is upset.  He offered to drive me around.  He offered me his car.  I do not want his car.  I want my fucking bike.  I don’t want favors.  I don’t want to pay for his fucking gasoline.  I don’t want sympathy.  I want my fucking property.

I don’t know why I trust people.  Ever time I do becomes another lesson in why I shouldn’t.

I am tired of trusting people.  I am tired of helping people.  I am tired of being reliable.  If you want to cut through my temper, if you want my attention, if you want me to help you . . .

Suck my cock.

Otherwise, fix your own problems.