I sit in my bathtub and stare at the tile on the wall as the water overflows with a million unanswered questions. The flooded bathroom is just a continuation of my liver and I don't know if I'll ever be a fraction of the child I once was. My girlfriend's company says they'll ensure an 8% match to contributions towards her 401k as I watch another torch snuff out on Survivor. Feminist literature is supposed to empower me. Why do I just feel hopeless? My dad says I don't understand there's no such thing as a fully automatic AR-15.
