"We all have issues, we all had problems. I was no different, really. We were both boys, two boys, two Midwestern misfits. We had parallel running lives...

While I was getting boogers wiped in my hair during Biology, he was being spit on in Social Studies.

A common story.

But there was a day, a sunny day in May, I'm sure, when at exactly 2 p.m., we both looked out of the window of our different schools and... What?

We didn't wish - wishes are wasted...

We didn't hope - because our future was inevitable...

And we didn't pray - we were on our own.

So we sent out energy bullets: "This is for New York." "This is for when I get there.""

"Party monster" by James St. James.

Подумать только... как это про нас, правда?

И, знаешь что? Я пробьюсь сквозь все это дерьмо сколько бы безликих блядей еще не дергало меня за рукав. Встретимся в чертовом Йорке. Не вздумай меня не дождаться.