Sorry Sam

I fart. Blurp. Snore. And more farts.
I have evil tots.
I would love to kill people I detest..
Or hurt them so badly that it is worse than death.
It's tiring to behave properly, speak properly, live properly.
I struggle with my values sometimes.
I am softer than I actually look.
I would love to do things my way, break rules and care shit about the consequences.

But I can't. Or rather I try very, very hard not to.

I bear the expectations of many, am the pillar for some and the nemesis of a few.

I can't fail.

And I am sorry you can't, Sam.

I am sorry you have to bottle everything within.

I am sorry that sometimes I don't like being Sam.

Sorry.