Remembered

Writing

I don’t want the last thing that people remember me for to be about something so simple, and something so common.

I want people to remember me for being the guy who could always smile when it was bad, or the guy who would always try to help others smile before he help himself.

The reasons I am me are so few, but are so little yet deeply impacted.

If my life were simple, all I’d want to do is snort blow and fuck.

I’d hang with wolves; I’d skip along the devil’s sidewalk.

These kids, these little boys trapped in a teenage body and lifestyle.

They think rape is fun, they hear a scream and they smile.

I don’t want to be a part of this generation, I suffer from ADHD, I pay no attention to people who insult or people who pretend to care. I should win an award for being me.

I am odd, people say I’m immature because I say I’d rather talk to unicorns, I say people are so depressed they can’t understand that cupid doesn’t exist and that love and liking someone is their choice.

I don’t want to be remembered for falling in love with a girl as soon as she says something nice to me.

I want to be remembered for tying a girl up and making her orgasm over and over until she sees I don’t give a fuck until she screams stop.

I like life; it is so stressful and so contradicting. People in your life want you to succeed but you have to disappoint other people to succeed.

If this were a game, I already know I’d be the winner. All of these people are so one track minded,

They are concerned with getting their parents approval or making new friends or being cool.

Blow….

Blow….

Blow…..

That’s all I hear these girls do now-a-days, blow.

These girls used to be angels; these angels wore cherries upon their lips, bright, lush and supple.

Their pants rose higher and higher, exposing their thighs, toned skin, flat stomachs supple breasts.

These angels are now little sluts.

I will admit that I like my girls small and skinny kind of pop-tart, when you bite you taste that sweet center.

Yet, I still don’t want to be grouped with these men, these young lions I call them, they are ferocious and untamed, aiming after the next walking fallen angel.

I want a girl, who doesn’t want the bad boy type who will ignore the sweetest girl and she begins to fall.

Or when she sees he has money and a nice car, she falls all over him.

No, I want the girl who can see through fake layers, I’ll admit it I am scared of girls at times.

The people like me are the ones who people are scared of.

We are sicker than people with malaria.  We aren’t scared to fight back even though we’ll lose.

I am a legend, I am a hero, I am just another dreamer who can’t escape this sad generation I am forced into. I am far too mature; I don’t put anyone down just to bring myself up like other people do.

I may seem like an asshole but I just don’t give a fuck a lot.

All of these men who think they are big bad wolves, are just foxes to me.

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