Let me tell you a story, 12 years ago while a brisk New York wanes in the midst of October a newly becoming adolescent turns 14. The boy- small, tan, and covered in acne like plots of seeds planted in a garden. Who was he? Noone quiete new yet, what they gathered was he was someone needy for their love and affection. Deeper than that was a desire to elevate through social ranks. When he turns 14 he begins developing a taste for shows- cartoons were a favorite, specifically the Dragonball franchise and a fantastic DCAU animated Justice League which has always been grossly underappreciated. It filled the boy with moxie. The young teen loved open world tales of risk an adevnture, but rarely embarked on any himself. So much love he would wakeup at 3 at times just to crank out episodes of those favorite shows, (if only he did that with you know, the academics, if only). If only I did that with you know, the corporate, work shaking my head. What you have to know is he was influenced by what he watched, perceived, and felt like Gin to a AA relapser. It shaped him, and he developed some thick skin because of it after all the shows, games, lifestyles he was interested in were of the hero type. Hard not to act like one or start attributing values based on them.
It's good that was his way of life growing up to, because he needed it. Close friends were verbal diarrhea throwers and confidence mosquitos. Sucking any good accomplishment or feat while also being passive to other threats outside the group. The world outside of his house but still in proximity of his hometown was alien, it revolved around money. A lump sum he never had, one time him and those friends went out for pizza but he didn't have cash to buy a pepperoni wheel, the friends mocked (can't blame them there that is pretty funny) and an old couple slipped him a $20. Yikes that's embarrassing he thought as he frantically ran the first 50 yard dash of his life to return it.
Where am I going with this, who is the kids and what's become of him. Well he's dead or dying, slowly. What remains is a statue in his honor, covered in cobwebs and trash around the base. The trash is from others like him, versions if you will, sick of the life he put up with but also gloating at the fact he was still standing at the end. And he did, some say he's not dead and merely faked his death, some say he went on to be president, or was a war hero overseas. No-one knows, but what's probably true is that he's stone cold now.
Greg
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