It doesn't matter why what happened did. You are only as successful as your last big hurrah. Someone will suddenly say something, unwittingly, about something you have or have not done. And you wince.
Then when you are alone, you turn the contents of your thirty something year old existence inside out. And when you sort through the medals and wounds, you realize, each scar tells a story. You may go red in the face narrating those excuses and explanations, but it's pointless.
And after you stew a bit, and brood and have arguments in your head, you realize, what in fact you should have known all along. There is only one way to get through the madness and ups and downs.
To not give a fuck.
Then when you are alone, you turn the contents of your thirty something year old existence inside out. And when you sort through the medals and wounds, you realize, each scar tells a story. You may go red in the face narrating those excuses and explanations, but it's pointless.
And after you stew a bit, and brood and have arguments in your head, you realize, what in fact you should have known all along. There is only one way to get through the madness and ups and downs.
To not give a fuck.
