Okay, so here's the story. I ran away from my parents as soon as I turned 18. It was a stupid move considering that I didn't even know how to file taxes, or buy a house, or even what went into writing a check. Better yet, I wasn't prepared for being an adult. It was like throwing a bird without any wings off the Grand Canyon.
I was in deep S-H-I-T.
I was actually doing pretty fine for a year or two. If you consider fine having no functioning toilet, or a house to place my non-existent functioning toilet in. So I'll admit I was just a tiny bit fucked. I moved from location to location and ended up sleeping with druggies and mooching from friends to keep my lavish lifestyle running. I believed that nothing could touch me.
Infections? What are those?
Kidnappings? Only happened to stupid people.
Robberies? They're many other wealthy people to rob from.
So I pretty much thought I was invincible, and nobody could tell me any better. I ended up majorly fucking myself up and went to prison for driving while drunk in a car I "borrowed" from a friend. Instead of killing myself in act of self-rebellion, I hit the jackpot.
Remember those friends I stole from? Well there was a girl named Twi, and she patched my life together. See, I had picked her as the worthy guest that I would steal from. But instead of taking her money and leaving her broke, she caught me. And instead of calling the police on me like any other sane citizen would do, she gave me a place to stay and helped me apply for jobs. It was like one of those sob worthy Lifetime stories, except my life wasn't a movie, and she wasn't a secret child killer who only hunted at night. At least, I don't think so yet.
But she fixed my shit, so now I wasn't in deep shit but better quality shit. Maybe some vegetarian shit. I still had tendencies to go on benders and more often than not, I was left having spent more money that I made in a year from my stupid ass 7 to 5 cashier job and owing rent that Twi had to cover for me.
I guess she finally got tired of my vegetarian shit so she reached an ultimatum, I either cough up 8,000 US Dollars in 4 months or I pack my shit and boot my ass out.
My solution? Find myself a sugar daddy. Much easier said than done.
So I guess this is where our story really begins, or if I'm lucky enough to find one of the crazy ones, end.
YOU ARE READING
He's your what? #JustWriteIt
Humor"Mom, Dad, I beg you to please keep an open mind with what I'm about to say next" I said to my parents. "Of course, after 23 years there's so little left that can shock us" my parents answered with a chuckle. I moved away from the door so my "speci...
