surviving the wreckage of expectations

on finding hope, not hype

He was shaking. His face was red and he was sweating. The boot and a few old scars were the only signs of the ‘accident’. It wasn’t an accident at all. It was his second try at driving his car into oncoming traffic.

Dude, if you want it over, you’ll need to get rid of the Toyota and find something more poorly built. Perhaps something Korean and without a seatbelt would be more effective.

He laughed and shot me a shocked look. You’re not serious are you?

God no. And neither are you. What the fuck are you doing? People care about you.

You care? You get paid to care.

Yeah I do. But they don’t pay me enough given the call I received last night. What the fuck are you thinkin’ Donnie?

I’m a fuck up. I’ve fucked it all up. Everything. My career sucks. My finances are in the toilet. I don’t have any education but high school - and they just gave me the certificate to get me out after my second ‘victory lap’. With these ‘attempts, I’ve fucked my body. I’m getting divorced for the third time and now…