meaning of life

You complain about the life that you chose.

You are not a victim, not at all.

Your generosity concealed something dirtier and meaner.

You're incapable of facing your ambitions

and you resent me for it,

but I'm not the one who put you where you are.

I've nothing to do with it.

You're not sacrificing yourself, as you say.

You choose to sit on the sidelines because you're afraid,

because your pride makes your head explode

before you can even come up with a little germ of an idea.

And now you wake up and you're 40

and you need someone to blame, and you're the one to blame.

You're petrified by your own fucking standards

and your fear of failure.

This is the truth.