I'm Tired of Being a Good Person

by Jason Reed


This is the douchiest thing to say, but I'm so fucking tired of being a good person. 


Every day, I wake up and greet the sun with a smile, even though the sun has affecting people's skin and playing as a second agent to global warming (which is our fault, of course). The sun doesn't care about these things, though. 


If I was four hundred thousand miles long, I probably wouldn't care either. 


I cook breakfast at home – Eggos and chocolate milk. If I'm feeling generous, I’ll leave some out on the table for my housemates. Who knows what time they'll wake up, but if I were them, seeing waffles on the table would be a great start to the day. 


Before I leave, the neighbor's cat sneaks into the house. I chase him for five minutes before I catch him, and bring him back to his family. They don't say “thank you” anymore, just good morning. 


I hop into my car and I realize I'm late. Great. I speed past the empty streets, but go back to the speed limit as soon as I spot other cars or people around me. I don't curse at the stranger who runs a red light, even when they almost crash into my car and the one next to me. 


Karma will get him. It's not your business, J. 


I drive into school and of course, there's no parking spots. Cars are parked illegally. Somehow, the ones without stickers have taken all the good spots. I don’t curse then either. 


Maybe they needed it, J. You never know what's going on in other people's lives. 


I finally find a parking spot, then rush to class which is across campus. When I barge through the door, the teacher shakes his head at me. I smile. He's right. It doesn't matter why I'm late, it just matters that I'm late. 


Class goes by smoothly. Towards the end of class, I get a text from my housemate.


Dude. You left your food out again and now there are ants. Jesus, don't you know how to clean after yourself?


I don't curse. I text a quick apology and a promise that I'll get it cleaned up after work. He reads my message but doesn't respond. Great.


After class is over, I rush to work study. It's a good job because I get to sit for hours, do homework, and get paid for it. Sometimes I'm forced to do my job, though. Today, I'm bombarded with questions from people who don't know how to use a computer, or spilled water all over their stuff and think I'm liable for some reason. Again, I don't curse.


Customer is always right, J. 


I'm exhausted by the time I get home that night, and to my surprise, my housemates cleaned the waffles from the table. Or ate them, which would be disturbing considering one of them said they were full of ants. I don't really care. 


I shower, brush my teeth, change into fresh clothes and get ready to go to bed. I watch Netflix for a while, not really sticking to something for too long. At 11:59, I close my computer and throw the covers on top of me. 


And then I scream. "Fuck!"


It feels amazing to let it out, and I do without holding back. Someone bangs on the wall next to me, but I don't care. It's freeing to curse so loud in hopes that my housemates, my neighbors, my professor, and my customers, even the sun, can hear. 


I am tired of being a good person, but a couple of “fucks” during the day is not enough to make me a bad person. 


When the clock hits midnight, I stop. I don't count sheep; it's not necessary. Living this day without cursing is exhausting enough to make me sleep all the way through the night until I wake up again to greet the sun. 


Good morning Sun. Today's going to be a fucking great day.

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