My writing's free... There's no need to donate shit to anyone...
Anyway, this is how it was for me. The want of something more from life hit me on my very first ever day of being an adult and getting a job in a factory hittin' rubber stoppers on to the foot plates of fuckin' wheelchairs. I broke within the first few minutes. There was no way that the life on the production line was going to be my life, I was meant for more. Life had to be more than that. Fuck it had too! What was the fuckin' point otherwise? But this life of travel didn't start until my mother passed away and a drive to be and to live thrust its way into my head, and ever since I’ve battled down the Long Road it led me on. However it was the passing of my father sent me right over the edge, afraid to stop and too ashamed to give up. Life is short, and a lot of people don't realise that. They know the system is bullshit and just can't accept it, so they stay at home wallowing in the unhappiness of it all as their life ticks by. They get depressed, in debt, have a job that sux, working for an invisible pig that doesn't care or even know they exist. Then after all that, they die and the government takes whatever the healthcare system hasn't already gobbled up.
