When every day is just a knife fight for fucking survival and nothing ever changes, what the fuck am I doing here? Twenty years in the same fucking motion. Nothing ever changes. It's just a motherfucking holding pattern. There has to be more to this life than survival. There has to be more to my life than the occasional escape and phone call reminder of the man I once was. I walk away to protect you from me, I don't play your controlling mindgames for a reason. I control the narrative, love me, hate me, loathe me, you will do at least two things, you will fucking respect me, and you will not forget me, even when it would be easier if I was forgotten. I damage people lives, thats why no one ever stays. As hard as I fucking try I am ultimately aware of how fucking disposable I am, to my girl, to my child, to my freinds ive known since before high school... how many of them are left? Its just a march to be truly alone. Whats fucking point. Fifty years old and I will sit down alon...