I grew up with a dollarless mother who tried really hard but always had problems and an absentee dad who had a bunch of dough but spent it all on his and his wife’s (and their kids’) addiction problems and simultaneously passed as being successful and normal. I had plenty of trouble when I was a kid, always tried my hardest but found I was constantly trapped in a world of resentful adults who didn’t believe in me worth a shit. I spent time doing dirty work, being distrusted, and being homeless. Against all odds I got out of the small town I lived in, went to a really great college, and moved to the big city. I graduated top honors a few years ago and so far it’s done nothing for my life. The people that actually did mentor and support me through it all have split, I can hardly pay my bills and my loans, and I have almost no friends to speak of, let alone girlfriends or boyfriends. You know what? I’m not unhappy. The fact is that even though I’m barely making it I am making it. Most days I think about how I’m not who I should have been after all of the shit I’ve been through, haven’t been given the opportunities I worked so hard for, but in the end life is just life. I’ve had dreams and I tried my hardest to not fuck up and to achieve them. Some have come true, some haven’t, they might someday. I still have problems, regardless. Life is just life and the people who think I haven’t worked hard enough can go fuck themselves. I’m not famous, I’m not socially popular, I’m not a recognized genius, I don’t have a nice house or car or new clothes. I’m barely employable in this economy. Who cares. My life is fine cause I got a heart that shines.
