Because I'm a terrible person.

Broke my foot. Fuck my life. Today is the last day of Missouri 60, and I don't give a shit. I'm off my feet for at least a month, probably surgery too, then another month off my feet again. Goodbye gym, goodbye treadmill, goodbye construction work. Can't drive, so goodbye looking for another job up at school. I might bitch and moan sometimes, but I just can't fucking stand this anymore. I hold doors open for people, I lend money, I go out of my way, I never talk bad about people, I always do my job, and I try my best. I put my family first, help friends in need. I can't even remember the last time I asked for something with ill-thought. I keep trying, trying, trying to do this for myself, to stick with my plans, to get in shape, to be healthy, happy, and in control of my own physical fate, yet every single time I seem on the brink of achieving this kind of change or control, a wrench gets thrown right into the gear shaft. I do it myself, I don't ask for help, and I hardly make excuses. I am doing my best, and I guess that means the universe has to try its best to fuck you up, so fucking hard, that you just don't give a shit anymore. Well I don't give a shit anymore. I'll still diet and whatev but I can't do any exercise so whatever, I guess its just back to square one. Right before I have to go back to school too. It's so ironic that my biggest fear was going back to school and now I have to put up with being basically a sedentary cripple with a severe addiction to food. So, naturally, I'm just going to blame this one on God and as far as I'm concerned he can go fuck himself. Maybe i'll just start being a dickface asshole and everything will magically get better. I'll start poppin' my collar and drinkin a case of nati every night, then go out to a clup and slobber all over the shanky bitches, then light a dumpster on fire on my way home. Afterward me and my "bros" will get back to the crib, find a baseball bat, and go beat up some homeless guy. You know, something normal for a Monday night, instead of trying to help my neighbor move a couch out of her basement because medic-aid won't cover the cancer bills and consequently she has to move into a smaller placee. Of course, If I hadn't been out being all good neighbor and shit, I wouldn't have lost my grip on the couch and fallen down thirteen stairs and broken my foot. So I guess its my own fucking fault and I should just shut the fuck up.