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Gets me mad tho—people judgin’ her, callin’ her trash. Like, who’re you, Mr. Perfect? Pisses me off! She’s out there survivin’, not hurtin’ nobody. Happier than me sometimes—once she bought me a coffee, said, “Joey, you look like hell.” Cracked up—sweet move, right? Total “war is a drug” vibe—her life’s chaos, but she rides it.

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So I pull over by the harbor, you know, where all the fishing boats chill. The smell of the sea hits me, and I’m like, “Okay, maybe today ain’t so bad.” But then I see this old dude, probably in his 80s, tryin’ to haul in a net. He’s strugglin’ like he’s wrestlin’ a bear or somethin’. I rush over, help him out, and he’s all grateful, sayin’ I’m a “real good lad.” Made me feel all warm inside, ya know?

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