death of a badass
When a kid grows up being told that they're bad, they spend the rest of their life either running away from it or trying to prove it.
Despite my parents, and the women, and the prosecutors, and the critics who've told me I'm bad, I never felt as if the shoe fit. Something rang false about it.
I make a clear distinction between being a badass and being a bad person. I've survived more scrapes and abuse and scandals and trauma than anyone I know, so I'm satisfied that I'm a badass. I've also felt confused and twisted and fucked-up and morally weak sometimes, but never truly bad ... not nearly as bad as the ones who've told me I'm bad. They're all foul in so many ways I could never be.
But I've spent my life trying to prove things to all the wrong people. It's only lately that I realize that one is only a coward if he cares more what others think than what he thinks about himself. The purest form of hatred is indifference.
The toughest and most charismatic person I've ever known was a convict whose prison handle was Snake. He told me that the authorities were afraid of him because he'd figured out their game, but they were more afraid of me because I could put it on paper.
It's the best way to scare them.
