The Manifesto of a Fuck Up

To the naysayers, pessimists, unbelievers, the critics and the jealous, scoffers and killjoys, the skeptics, cynics, doubters and headshakers: Fuck you.

Yes, I’ve fucked up. At least I never became another standardized automaton with a bar-code shipped from an assembly plant in Taiwan. Yes, I didn’t have purpose. At least I wasn’t programmed with one while I was on my back in the maternity ward. Yes, I’ve lied, but at least I’ve never looked at someone I loved and faked it. Yes, I regret many things I’ve done. But I wanted to do them and had the cojones to fail. Yes, I’ve taken the hard road. But I never took the high horse. Yes, I’ve had to postpone my dreams. At least I never had to borrow them from someone else. Yes, I’ve sometimes felt like a complete failure. That doesn’t mean that I’m still one.

Yes, I fucked up. But at least I never finished fucked up.

To everyone who believed: Thank you.


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