Pete, Petey, it’s all the same emasculating shit, he used to say.Besides, he liked to be compared to a mass murderer.“Same place, huh?” said the other man. Jessie was his name.“Yeah?” Todd responded challengingly, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray. This was one of the only bars that let you smoke, although you had to do it in the back room.“It’s cool” Jessie said, placatingly. He was only 5’6’’, and a little flabby, so he definitely didn’t want to start a fight.“Used to go here with my old man” the first one said, changing the subject, “Was run by a biker gang back in the 40’s ... one of the last ones” he said lamentingly. Al was his name.“Yeah”, Todd agreed, sitting back in his chair, looking bored, “This country ain’t the same no more.”“It’s a shame what’s going on, but at least we’re doing something about it, ya know?” Al said, looking him in the eyes.Al’s alright, Todd thought. “Gotta do something, before it’s too late. Those dykes’ll be cuttin’ our balls off soon. I didn't even have a car, and my dad was on his second by the time he was my age.All this had really made me feel that I was behind in my own life. The only real accomplishment I've made is my football scholarship. Dad says I should take pride in it, that it's not a simple feat, but sports have always come so easily to me. I barely had to work for it, it certainly didn't make me feel like I earned anything.I moved to a dorm in my college, didn't even need to, campus is a short bus ride from where I live with my parents but I needed to feel independent. Anything at all really to make me feel less like a child.Sitting at the tiny desk in my tiny room, all these thoughts washed over me, as they have nearly every night since I moved in. And with them, an odd sense of calm. Like this room knew what I was feeling and wanted me to feel okay. It was a pretty cozy dorm, small but not suffocating. A single bed, a desk, and a few bookshelves where all that accented the space. There was.
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