I didn’t know who she was, or what I was doing, but she was with me, and that much was more than I could ask for. I wasn’t looking for anyone; she just found me I guess.


Hi, my name is Carl, and I’m an alcoholic. I live in a small town called Jefferson City, Missouri. It’s a town, not a city. Technically, it’s a city, but really, it’s a town, not a city. It also happens to be the state capital. Of Missouri that is. More fondly known by myself as the state of Misery. It is a capital, though. Things do go on here. Politics. Sure. But from in front of closed doors, it’s nothing too special. I don’t think so at least. Some people love it here. I’m not one of them. I’ve spent my whole life here. And my life is pretty shit. So if that’s a consolation. I don’t know. And I’m not a pessimist. By the way. I’m just a realist. That’s all.


Her name is Samantha. Yeah, I know who she is. What I’d said, is that I did not know who she was. Read carefully. I’m not saying that I’m slick, I’m just saying that I’m accurate. Calm down. God. Fuck. And she’s cool. Samantha. She is. Really. Probably the coolest person I know. Reason being is that, she thinks I’m cool. And that’s a pretty damn good reason. But yeah, she knows all my flaws. She’s never known anything otherwise from me. Just my flaws and yet, she thinks I’m cool. And I got some pretty major league flaws. One, I’m an alcoholic. Two, I work a shit job. Three, I have no car. Four, my apartment is shit. Samantha says I put too much emphasis on my lack of capital. I think she’s just being nice. Five, I’m a convict. So, yeah, I’m a catch. And don’t get her wrong; she’s not some beaten down, downtrodden, down-on-her-luck, take-what-she-can-get kind of girl. You know. I mean, she can do better than me. For sure. And also, it’s not like she’s satisfied with there being nothing to become of myself; she truly believes, that I’m gonna make something of my life. I think she’s a bit crazy. But she’s the coolest person I know. Oh, and she’s hot, too. Yeah, I’m the luckiest bum in Jefferson City. Not to intentionally tarnish my and her quality with that phrasing — I’m just saying, it’s like I said, I’m a realist. I’m a bum — It’s okay, though. I’ve had plenty of years now to get over this less-than-fortunate fact of my life. So, if you’re not over it yet, well, you probably should be.


Seriously, I cannot stand that shit from people. People tell me I’m negative. You know. But then again, people are idiots. You know. I overheard this guy at my work, man — the other day, he called me a Negative Nancy behind my back. I have to roll my eyes just repeating that phrasing. Now, mind you, this dude who’d said that, this dude is a construction worker. This dude is working a man’s man’s job and he pulls some shit out of his hairy ass like that. Negative Nancy — what is that shit. Damn. But what’s worse than that, though, man, is the people who don’t even fucking know me, thinking it’s their divine duty to stand up for me without my wishing them to — I cannot stand that bullshit. It’s always some self-righteous bullshit, too — it’s the, stand up for you to remind them all I’m taller, kind of shit. It’s bullshit. It’s selfish. Self-serving. Bullshit people. Because if you don’t know me then you don’t know me. End of story.

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