There ain’t no rest for the wicked as the song goes. Not for them or me. Only the good die young. Where’s B III? He was my baby even at 15. Old dogwise. Hell, I did believe he would outlive me… I had my reasons. Outlive Your Enemies, Not Friends
Monday, November 1, 2021
Chronicle 123 ~Outlive Your Enemies, Not Friends~
Two-Hundred And Twelfth Rule
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means the man I’m looking at is the world’s enemy. Somethings will never change, Madam J.
Of course, right now, I’m scraping by. The fact that we’re speaking on a Wednesday afternoon in October (Time Travel) lets you know that It WASN’T A Good Day. It’s one thing to not have any friends at the Day Job. I don’t want any but being lied to, Madam. I’m sure that the manager lied to me about my paycheck and my responsibilities. Who knows, I could be wrong, but everyone there believes I’m STUPID anyway. It’s a disease. Not only STUPIDITY but how I find enemies. It’s like a fucking Hydra. One head drops dead. And two more rise. To think of all the times I got mad at Braxton for barking at nothing. No, he saw everything.
Well, not me. B’s murderer, his killer, the fucking Grim Reaper. People are getting sick of me saying that. Hell, I don’t blame them. I reached out to a few friends today (Wednesday). Braxton’s aunt said hello. Another is pretty injured, and one said nothing. That leaves me with a few choice words for the man in the mirror, well, one. “Yuck.” Remembering my motivations. Someone spoke about your best friend/worst enemy staring at you in the mirror. Well, Braxton was my best friend. My worst enemy lives on. If I had the guts to leave my Day Job, they would go on. B III would have died faster. Yet here I am, Madam repeating the words of Rick Grimes. “We Are The Walking Dead. Lived to become the villain.
Like father like son, right? If my father and I agree on anything. It’s the fact that I should plan on not outliving him. He’s over half my age, of course. Fuck I’m thirty-seven. Every E-Day is a failure. Oh yeah, today starts NaNoWriMo and NoFap. The Good, Bad, Ugly. Only Braxton isn’t here to sit under the table, keeping me focused. Hands meet keyboard. You don’t see any girlfriend around here making me break into “Baby I Love You.” Madam, you’re an imaginary one out of six, and I should be writing about “Bridgman.” Oh, what? I’m not writing about B III again. I outlived him, and my enemies are slothful. I’m the worst of them all, dear friend. Outlive Your Enemies, Not Friends
274 Days Without B III
BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,