Several years ago I saw myself not getting

Several years ago I saw myself not getting very far. Not being able to achieve

what I'd aspired to: a well dressed bachelor living in indolent wealth in a rooftop penthouse in the big Apple fauned over by shallow attractive ladies half my age. Instead I lived

in a 2 story Frito Lay's box, which I had constructed myself, on 32nd street by a dumpster. My only source of running water was an apartment drain. I thought it was high time to

greatest of all time. I could go out there and be somebody if I really wanted to. sadly, I was the one holding myself back. The reason I couldn't move on was me.

As my thoughts filled the time, I looked up again at the bars on the window. I could escape out of here if I wanted to. I would simply squeeze my head between the bars, lift one

leg up, rip it off and pry open the bars with it until I got my torso through, almost too easy. But something kept me from breaking free. I couldn't quite put my finger on it but

that's because my fingers are numb from frostbite. I really should have worn gloves while shoveling snow from the driveway. Now I'm stuck in this prison cell like a banded lobster

in a marketplace tank. It's tortuous and tedious. I sit still as possible thinking about how I got into this mess. A man with a net walks by whistling. I press myself into a corner

Life is tough when you're the tastiest looking lobster in the tank. I struggled hard against the rubber binds, but alas, it was for naught, I was cooked and served with butter.