Hopeless

A parable about “game” (or lack thereof) from Max at FKIN.

“So, what are you, like some kind of pick-up artist or something?”

I didn’t laugh.  No one has ever accused me of being an artist of any sort, much less that sort.  I sneered at the idea.

“No, I’ve just got a chip on my shoulder and a drinking problem.  I don’t care what the fuck any of these people think, and neither should you.”

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