People are strange.
OR
Perhaps my life is just that fucked up. My family lies to me as they secretively hide secrets that I somehow know about. Don't ask me how I know. People only hang out with me because my wife gives them more action and attention than she does me. My job continues to undervalue me, knowing well that my skills extremely surpass the worth that they have given me. My car keeps fucking up on me as my bankroll increases, acting like another gold-digger chauffeur. There's a lot of fucked up shit going on. My shoes don't fit. I have no friends. I can only hold conversations 1 out of 10 times. My life is just that fucked up. Welcome to it. I will bitch about it. I will complain. And I will fuck you up for the mere challenge and fun of it. That's how I roll.
Money may not be able to buy happiness,
but it can still get you fucked up.
And that's what I is.
If it is what it is, what is it?
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