Story-A-Day #252: Parked

PARKED

I am a horrible person. Sincerely vile and despicable. It's true.

I am a chronic liar, a deceitful sac of despicableness. I am a cheat and a philanderer. I am an ugly drunk whose fists are either full of drink and cigarettes, or pummeling the faces of complete strangers.

I do these things because I can. I am empowered.

I am a pugilist gifted with a hatred for the world.

I have no friends because I have a deep seeded comprehension for the fallibility of humankind.

If they weren't so fast, I would kick puppies in their smug little faces. I would punch a baby.

I do drugs. I do copious amounts of the hardest substances I can find, not because they make me happy, bit because they make me mean.

I laugh at the less fortunate. I point out those with disabilities and deride their pathetic lives.

I park where I shouldn't because I can. Handicap, expectant mothers, reserved: these terms mean nothing to me.

I am an army of one. I am all that is wrong with this world, yet I am a product of it.

You are right to fear me, to scorn me even, because I am a reflection of what we have become. I am the conclusion of our evolution.

I am each of you in some small way, a fact that you all know deep down.

I am you and you are me. The real question is what are we?

Is thus where we are heading or were we already there? Have we always been there?

I am all these things, but what I am not is a cynic. I know our potential, I see it every day. I would embrace that potential, but somebody needs to be the reminder.

You don't need to thank me. You just need to make sure you don't become me.

I am an army of one, and that is my only peace.

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