The Newness of Myself

It begins again. But I am still getting older. The hair is thinning and I might be sick. No more soda, no more cigarettes, and I am hating all of this. My son lives to far away and it is even farther now that the second child is on her way. And yet I do nothing. No real improvement - no real change has occurred. I have always thought of myself as a liar and a cheat, but a person who could be good one day given a chance. Given an opportunity to improve I would snatch it by the tail and swallow it whole and bask in my own greatness while feigning humility. But it was all a lie intertwined with with a romantic concept of some sort of street nobility. I am of no real good. No real merit. And the people I seek to impress the most with my honesty and self confidence are the people I lie to and hide from the most. I am a unwanted child with children I cannot keep because weakness pours out of me and covers me in the stench of ultimate failure and stupidity. Even with all of this - I am worse than this... but any more honesty might make it impossible for me to waste another day pretending I am alive.