The day after my son died, I traded a day of mourning for a morning at the Day Job. I gave up music to hear curses I’d level at a meathead jock asshole of an ASM. SIGH, I break “Rule 186” every day at the Day Job. Trade But Don’t Betray Yourself
Monday, May 3, 2021
Gospel 306 ~Trade But Don’t Betray Yourself~
Hundred And Eighty-Sixth Rule
I AM a Billionaire right now, but would it be worth being a sell-out for this or that.
Not for Braxton’s life. I keep telling myself, I’m not moving into BARGAINING as of yet. People are too STUPID!!! My ANGER still rules but isn’t that one more way I have broken this rule. Take, for example, my Empathy for Apathy. No, worse, all I had left was ANGER. It’s the reason I hate the ASM and the Day Job so much. THEY remind me of killing my son by giving me the same weapon I did it with. I raged at them and, in turn, killed my boy, trying not to feel anything. When my tears threatened to wash away the blood… dammit. A meathead jock of an ASM had to fuck it all up for me. Now yes, Madam, I deserve Hell.
So with that being the case, I trade Hell for what, PRIDE? I won’t be leaving with that, I know. Um, listen to me, like I’ve been fired now. Yes, I’m back in the time machine because it’s Saturday, May 1. Last week was Hell, and this one isn’t shaping up at all. Friday, I felt a bit like Andy Dufresne in Shawshank, giving a bit of myself for my friend’s happiness. That’s a good way of putting it, Madam Justice. Andy Dufresne helped the other prisoners because he wanted to feel normal again. Indiana’s time has been shattering. If I were a God-fearing man, I would say I’m giving up silver and gold to pick up my cross. The smallest coffins are the heaviest.
How dare I right? Not only for saying that, but B III had a nice long life, but ask anyone with a furbaby. They will always be our children, and I let a fucking job try and destroy me. Braxton’s death has done that sure enough. Now all I have is that fucking Day Job. The Manager told me about my loyalty, and I would be willing to trade a decade of it for twenty days of hatred. It’s been seventy-two days since I met that bastard and ninety-two days now, so yes, twenty. Hell, I don’t even remember the man I was a ten-years prior. Only I’d trade the man I am now to be who I should have been for Braxton. Be Better… Trade But Don’t Betray Yourself.
BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,