Probably about five years ago we were in my basement partying… something that has pretty much defined most of my life. In between the sips… bong smoke… and laughter… my conscience suddenly bit through the thick fog of my brain, and I was struck with reality. I looked around at the shelves full of motorcycles parts… scanning in slow motion, as if I had just woken up. I want to be something in this life…
A thought that would come to consume me… that would bring me places that I never could have imagined. I have often said to myself “why can’t you just be normal?”
How often in this life do we try to feel what we are supposed to feel, or say what we are supposed to say? When do we reach the point in our lives, where being successful…. means not being yourself?
This is me being myself… saying what I feel… for no other reason, than the simple fact than… it’s who I am. There is nothing extraordinary about me or what I have to say… at the same time it’s so fucking extraordinary.
Bad punctuation… with good intentions… these words are what made me. I hope you enjoy… if not you’re probably way smarter or way stupider than me… but that’s ok.