Another Life

I was lunching with a friend the other day and I was telling him about a guy I work with who was telling me how he used to work as a tattoo and piercing artist and some of his stories from his times there.

I then offered up some of my tales of years long ago to the co-worker.

So my friend asked me what were my stories that I told, which I regaled. This triggered my memory and I gave my friend a few additional accounts of what was.

He was laughing, as they are comical, but also they are very atrocious.

Quite honestly, I was a really bad person. Horrible. I was so awful that when I tell these stories it seems like it was a completely other person who must’ve done these things.

I mean I was an asshole, a menace and a criminal.

Looking back, I feel like there is no way that it was actually me who carried out all these unspeakable acts.

I was a genuinely bad person.

It really feels like it happened in another lifetime.

Thank goodness I’m such an angel now.

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