Was the son of a preacher woman. I don’t live in a ghetto, but I could imagine how it feels. Dissatisfied with yourself, dissatisfied with your surroundings. Of course I am assuming as so many do. And then I think that you’re mad at me, but no you are mad at yourself. And that it’s not my fault, and that it isn’t even yours. It stems from everybody and nobody, its something else. OR maybe now I’m assuming. People go out on the weekends. They go to bars or parties or whatever and their nervousness is transmitted into actions, gestures, and chatter. It really depresses me, but I know I should think its beautiful, as many do. I maybe assuming. But I’m so tired of being a pessimist.