Where's the money, suka?!

Part2

My head hurts, it feels like someone strangled and beat me up until I passed out. Blood rushes through my veins in my head and every pulse pump, makes me feel like my head is cracking open. It is not a new feeling for me, yet every time feels like the first. Standing up from the bed I look around, no one. Weird, I remember that I was definitely with someone yesterday, whatever. I try my best to stand up and grab my phone from the table. 17:34. Good, I have plenty of time. I Slowly almost crawl down the hallway barely making it into the bathroom.I look at myself in the mirror. The image I see every day, which reflects every part of my face, the picture, that disgusts me every time I look at it. I stare at myself for a good minute, I'm not ugly, I would even say somehow handsome, but I still wish I had a different face, a different structure. My face just doesn't fit me, at all.Light red hair — ginger, big nose, deep blue eyes, and stupid freckles. I look so innocent, and friendly even though my facial expression is usually serious or grumpy. I for sure have a resting bitch face, the worse of them all. I look younger than I am, frankly, I guess. My face is not too masculine and for sure not feminine. When people see me outside they think, that I am just an average-looking guy, who just does his thing. I guess I look harmless,wolf in sheep's clothing.

"You are the definition of sunshine."

Disgusting, how can sunshine live like me? Do what I do. My eyes are swollen, I lost weight again. Body wise I am satisfied. I am pretty tall 197cm. I don't have much muscle, but I have some strength for sure. Enough for me, well, let's say I have my techniques and I am too lazy to work out anyway.Every day I take a good look at myself in the mirror and see an exhausted young guy staring back at me. I look unpalatable, inside and outside. I shame myself for what I do. I hate myself, yet I don't stop. Something is still alive, deep inside me something is still breathing, but it gave up reading morals to me. It just stalks every move and silently judges me. Or maybe it is not that deep, I am extremely hungover and I didn't get enough sleep. Probably it's just that, I usually don't overthink as much, to be fair I usually don't think at all.

Bursts of cold water make me feel alive again, even for a second I feel better. My face already looks less swollen and even fresh. I am spitting out blood in the sink while water drops down the sink washing away dark red spots. I don't even know why my mouth is bleeding. Is my mouth bleeding? Or maybe it's more serious, the insides are damaged? I gently run my tongue across the roof of my mouth and the insides of my cheeks. Well, it feels like I damaged the inside of my mouth. Good, no need to worry about my already poor health. I don't remember much about yesterday. But I for sure had fun — my way. Scratched back and prints of red lipstick on my body, don't tell me much about the backstory, but I can imagine the outcome. I step into the kitchen with my hair soaking wet.A sip of good cognac is better than any cup of coffee, even the most expensive coffee from the best grocery store in Petersburg. Even the best-selected coffee beans won't compare to my old and good booze. At least right now. When my head is blowing up from the hungover dizziness, I sit down and rub my face. I look at the ceiling and then slowly glance around the kitchen.My kitchen is big my — apartment is big. I live in the center of SPB* and I make very good money for living. If the younger me knew how much I earn, he would be proud of me. But if he found out how I earn this money, I think he would be concerned, maybe even disappointed. The things I do for a living are inappropriate, I am embarrassed for what I do. Deep inside I want to change something, but money is way too good for a change. It sounds like I sell my body or something, to be honest, I don't know which is worse. If I found out my son earns money like I do, I would beat the shit out of him. Frankly, I don't have children, or a dad, even though my mom at my age already had me. Family life is not for me. I was in love, once. It was embarrassing teenage love with a bad ending. Teenage romances usually have the same predictable ending — heartbreak, begging, sobbing, and disappointment in love. After this insane experience, I found out for myself that love life is not for me. I am not a family guy, selfrealisation and career are much more important than always whining wife and children.I make great money, but I am not developing as a person. I don't do the thing I want to do. I am a musician, a beatmaker, in my mind, at least. It is the thing I really want to do and I have done for a long time. But in the eyes of everyone, I know, I am a literal criminal. Music doesn't bring me any money, just joy and pleasure. My income depends on my disgusting actions towards people. Well usually at least, in my opinion, they deserve it. People who I am taking care of, know what they are doing and what path they chose in the first place. But my ''organization'' is based only on earning money, which means that sometimes people who are not related, get hurt as well. This is the sad reality: if you don't want to get involved with anything bad, don't be born. But even though people chose their paths themselves, who I am to take people's lives, money, reputation, and joy. Who am I to control destinies? Well, no one, but I still have to take control of someone's destiny. I'm smart, I'm sly and a bit harsh, but inside I am a considerate man with a good heart — I want to believe that. I was raised well. My mother taught me to respect others, especially women. Well, I respect everyone, who is weaker than me, at least most of the time. I don't know how to look into my mother's eyes after everything I have done, I am the only child, the only hope, and the worst failure. But I won't do anything about it. Nobody pays well for being a good boy.