Behind Schedule

Success should've come to me a good few years ago. I'm on the brink of it now, but it's a bitter sweet feeling. I knew I was good enough to be where I am now five or six years ago, and in fact, I was then where I am now. But then people started dying on me and I went a bit loopy. Slept with a lot of girls too. Maybe you're one of them. [If it was between 2002 and '03, apologies. I know I was crap in the sack but that was the anti depressants. And if you were among the crowd who saw me collapse outside that posh block in Camberwell - the only posh block in Camberwell - whilst urinating after unknowingly smoking some skunk at a party in May 2001, I apologise for that too. You were all rather good about it, claiming not to have seen my bits, but I know my bits were out at the time and I can live with that].

People say you handle success a whole lot better when you're older. How much older did I have to get? How many more crap jobs did I have to do? I wanted to be successful while I was young enough and happy enough to enjoy it. Since watching sucess first slip through my hands six years ago, I've broken my nose three times. I can't even smell food properly now. What good's that going to be when I'm ordering lobster and chips at the Ivy?

© Disappointed of West Egg 2006. Do not reproduce without permission.