Alright you boggle minded scrabble rejects. Pull your head out of that pickle jar you call an ass long enough for me to say something to you all.

I'm drunk and pissed and I'm itching to start a fight, BUT, being the ever loving neighborhood friendly drug dealer I am, I'll settle for a simple speech:

You're all assholes.

Now, I mean this in the best way possible, but there isn't really any other word that perfectly encapsulates what you are better than that.

You. Are. All. Assholes.

Drifting from place to place without a care in the world, going from high to low like you were riding a rollercoaster and aren't willing to get off until you get bucked out.

I'm not judging, cause it's kids like you that keep people like me in business, really, it is. What truly pisses me off, what really gets my goat and gives it a reach around, is what I hear you all mutter under your breaths when you're down in the dumps, or high off your ass on cloud nine:

'sssall dere foult'

'eyeee 'idn't due eettt, 's naut mai foult'

''ssss dere foult, eyee culda bn' ah countendre'

It's like none of you could possibly fathom the possibility that YOU are the reason that you're such a shitty human being. Like every shitty thing you've done is magically forgiven cause you were brought up by iconoclastic fuckasses that denied you that perfect childhood.

Oh boo-fucking-hoo, cry me a god-damned river why don't you?

We ALL came from shit, born from the cigarette ashes and out of the empty whiskey bottles that made up our parents' shitty excuse for a mistake.

It's from these empty beginnings that you've got to find what you want and BUILD something that will get you out of where you started. It's all up to you to better your station in life and find a way to get back on track, whether that's through self-introspection, or, more likely, whatever passes for intimacy in this godforsaken place.

We are quite literally the dregs of society, left behind to mold and sprout legs of our own, and we can't think of anything better to do than fall right back into the same shithole that our parents willingly fell into?!

Fuck. You. All.

There's something you gotta understand about this scene, it's that it's transient. It's ephemeral: fleeting. Do you get what that means?
There's no way that this scene is going to last as long as it's lasted with you in it.

And that's the point.

This ain't anything but a waystation that you're gonna dock at for the next two, three, five years before deciding that you're too good for this shit, fucking off to some new dawn leaving the rest of us behind.

And that's how it should be.

You're probably one of those types who come out here to the city thinking that you're going to make it big here on the scene. Some sort of white savior from the suburbs coming into the seedy inner cities and making it all better through the sheer power of sex, drugs, and rock n' roll. Well fuck that noise. You ain't nothing better than any of the other rat racers who wanted to chase a bigger cheese. But that don't make you any less than anyone else here.

You've probably got a family that loves you, despite it all, don't you? Savor that shit. Love them like they were your own flesh and blood, cause they are. The family you choose for yourself and the family you're born into, find out which one of the two give more of a damn about you and then hold them close to you. Never let them go.

Cause let me ask you a question. Have you ever seen a lifer?

No, you've never thought about that, have you?

Someone who's been in this scene since they were old enough to pick up their first cigarette and figure out which end goes into their mouth and which end gets lit the fuck up.

Everyone you see around you is young and virile and ready to use both of those things to mess you up in a way that only the shameless can.

But what about those who weren't smart enough to get out of the scene before they started to drown in it? They ended up neck deep and decided that it was better to lie down and die than continue on.

And the ones who don't blow their brains out in the harbor fair even worse than those that do.

Cause you've seen these Nobodies everywhere around you, you just don't pay them any attention. They're the crackwhores you ignore on your way to the trap house. They're the homeless you toss your change to. They're the bodies you see in the gutter on a Tuesday night because they've been drinking since Sunday of last month.

They're all islands in their own right, unwilling to put themselves in the position to open up to others in any meaningful way, cause if they could, they would have left by now. They would have made something out of their lives, something, ANYTHING other than being some kinds of used trash receptacle for semen and DIRTY MOTHERFUCKIG NEEDLES.

…

I'm never going to live past 35.

None of us are, not like this.

We're all too young and vain to think past tomorrow, so how do you think that we're going to take gravity causing our tits to sag and our dicks to shrink?

It's not going to be pretty.

We're not going to go silently into that good night.

We're going to go kicking and screaming.

That's why we don't think about the future in this scene, at least not explicitly.

What I always found funny was that we get so mad at anything that we think is unfair, anything remotely political under the current 'regime', but we still make out like we're some kind of armchair Nietzsche. Like we honestly couldn't care less about where we're going to end up cause the world is cold and uncaring and 'oh my god I'm so lonely somebody please fuck me so I forget how pointless life is'.

But we do care.

Because why would we get mad at anything unless we felt that it could be BETTER?

Why would we want change unless we believe that we deserve something that doesn't make us feel like shit for existing and give us constant flak for every breath we take?

THAT'S what I hate about the people here.

All of you assholes.

You don't get this scene at all.

I'm pounding drugs into my body to feel hard and to revel in the fact that I'm angry. Cause there's nothing else to do when you're a part of the impotent masses down here in the dregs.

YOU pound drugs to forget all the pain you've ever felt. Only for it to come crashing back when you get sober and hungover.

You don't know the first thing about this scene, do you?

This shit's about ANGER, RAGE.

It's about HOPE.

Why get mad unless you don't think it could be better?

You all get sad because you were raised to think that if something isn't fair, you just bitch and moan until it gets changed.

The squeaky wheel gets the grease, right?

But never actually do anything about the shitty farmer who doesn't keep his wagon up to shape.

Man.

Fuck you all.

-Jimmy

So I started writing this when I was good and happy with my life, so felt more open to use fun insults and turns of phrase.
I actually came back to this story frustrated and tired, so halfway through it got tougher to actually finish.

It's a good metaphor for the letter itself.

I don't know, I was a strong proponent for the 'Jimmy/Jesus being the same person' theory in my younger and more vulnerable years, but it works either way really.