One month ago I came home disappointed and frustrated with my life. My boss (well, one of my two bosses) didn’t give me the money he owed me because of a misunderstanding. The one who misunderstood was me, of course. Anyway, what made me so angry was this idea that someone can promise you something and not go through with it.
These days I keep finding myself thinking about the past couple of years, or rather how my life went on. Since high school, as far as I can remember, when joining a group I started out acting shy, needing time to blend in, gradually earning my place by cracking jokes and eventually being regarded as one of the team. It’s still the same, for Christ’s sake! So what am I, but a fat-ass fake, lying to people about my true self because I’m too fucking scared of their reaction when they finally see the real hateful-foulmouthed-grotesque me ? After all, everybody does that. You set about acting kind, friendly (obliging even!), but sooner or later, when you feel that you’re in… you stop being so nice. Am I right?
He sits there, on his fancy leather couch, smoking his slim, fancy cigarette and drinking his fancy, bitter coffee. He is the HITMAN. Choosing his victims randomly, aiming from the fancy balcony where the fancy couch is (like that douche from “Schindler’s List”), he silently observes and shoots. When? Well, when he feels like killing people. He is the smartest on the planet, the only one entitled to an opinion. He walks under others’ balconies, never admitting the slight possibility of being shot or even aimed at. At the end of the day, after three or four kills, he lounges on his fancy couch, happily puffing from his fancy cigarette and says: “Today was a good day. The world is a better place thanks to me.”