George cowgill

You tell me what I’m supposed to do. Sit by and do nothing? Should I read from the American Manual of Life and, after 16+ years of education, get a safe job with water cooler perks and a parking space? Eat and sleep when I’m told? Vacation when I’m designated, and celebrate postcard gift certificate holidays?
I don’t want to live safe.
I don’t want to live holding my breath in fear of something “bad” happening. I come from ancestry that runs towards tragedy for a living. There’s no reason for me to be any different.
Maybe I should take your psychiatrist prescribed medication. Refine my dinner party etiquette and social charms.
or
Maybe I should hang myself from the tallest tree on Ruffner Mountain or jump from the tallest building on 20th Street.
or
Maybe I’ll choose my own path.
Maybe I’ll deny everything I’ve been coerced into believing and the schedule I’ve been assigned. Maybe I’ll write what I want and breathe how I want. Cover myself in tattoos that only make sense to me and refuse to explain them.

Maybe I will deny the life that someone else penciled my name to.

I won’t stop, I can’t. There are people depending on me, one little girl in particular, and I cannot let her down.
Glory.
Maybe I’ll go out in a fury of flame and bullets and blood and guts.
or
Maybe I will fail miserably.
Whatever happens though, will be my decision.
I promise you.

(Oh and all passwords should have some reference to satan. It’s a fact.)