Conspiracy of One: Jordan Can Drive…Horribly

Jordan is a horrible driver. At the very least, he scared the shit out of me numerous times, and got a kick out of it. His enthusiasm reminds me of some other venture capitalist I know, yet the name eludes me at the current moment. Him and his PT Cruiser should be quick allies; it reminds me that I should fall in love with my car again, despite what my lust triggers in my brain. New job, new car, borrowed attitude. I’d almost think the kid was born again.

School ended a couple of weeks ago, and my marks are pretty damn good. All in all, I pulled off a 3.71…not bad considering how hard and often I worked to perfect my craft. I am proud of my efforts, yet the fire still burns. Why does the fire still burn? Old conversations recently discovered in my possession while conversating with my mother.

For one, I’m still hellbent on going to Berkeley. It is my will, and it shall be done. A useless bitch will not stand in my way, either. Vanessa Rodriguez is probably owed a letter of gratitude as much as she deserves my scorn; if it was not for her, I’d probably be content at Long Beach. But no, no one disrespects me and lives. If I have to transfer to UC San Diego to get my point across that I will not die, it doesn’t bother me.

And why do I feel like I’m not at Berkeley? Simply put, it’s either God trying to humble me, or someone fucking with my first semester, prodding me to commit my first error in my career: failing Spanish 3. If a certain incident would not have happened, I would be in Berkeley, because I would not have failed that damn course. It’s alright, considering my presence truly was necessary in Hawthorne. Mother needed someone to help her recover, I still had my best friends, and well, other business that I’m sure I’ll take care of soon as I figure out the full scope of what needs to be done.

Thus, brings me back to Vanessa. I requested a mindfuck session for her, and well, it worked. I’m still not done, though. Success will be the best revenge. Whether you’re in San Diego, the South, or right next door, I’m coming. Nobody can stop the freight train. Whoever decides to stand in my way will die, simply put. No more fun and games; the bitch is back. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Mims feat. Purple Popcorn “This Is Why I Rock”

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