The moral of the story is all people are terrible. Five movies about radioactive sharks trying to conquer the world and the rag-tag misfits working together to stop them? At least it’s not another remake. We’re at a point in the movie where Geraldo Rivera just picked up the heroes in an airship like mother-fucking Cid from Final Fantasy. It was a short-lived venture, probably a budgetary decision. 

Most people initially like me because I pretend they’re interesting. A defense mechanism I learned to love, it doesn’t lead to long-term bonds. I don’t expect anyone to like me when I’m being myself. I don’t relax to feel good, I push. I’m still a shy person and not eager to open up but living fearlessly circumvents that obstacle. It doesn’t remove the nerves. I just ignore them for the first 48 hours.

I still have one corner of my mind gnawing away at The Heartbreak. I’m referring to the proper noun because at this point it feels like gaslighting. I’ve spent 3 years deliberately changing the course of my life and the perspective gained feels like hang gliding over society. Admiring the beauty of our shared struggle comes with less judgement than I’m accused of. Viewing past, present and future in the same window comes with the taint of sorrow. On the bright side, I stay grounded.

Underestimated by most of my peers, I’m convinced the breakthroughs I’ve made can lead to a better world. Even if it makes you hate me, I won’t betray the truth. That’s just how I am. Like the guy asking you for money even though you say no every day. One day I’ll meet someone with enough integrity to not only survive my friendship but maybe teach me something in return. I have so much left to give. Come and get it before it’s gone.