God , I'm about 50 bucks short on the change here

I'm sure everyone feels shortchanged by life once in a while. Come to think of it, I feel like I've been fucked over for a few years now. That is not to say that I have a lot of things in life that people would die for. College fees paid for, a great family, not to worry too much about my expenses, good friends (who will be at my wedding and see me grow grey hair), and good health. (Sorta, besides the fucking disc degeneration.)

Somehow we always manage to focus only on the fucked up, shitty things. Which is exactly what I've been doing lately.

I prayed a few weeks back (yes, I did. Surprisingly.) and asked God for some 'happiness.' Many say happiness is what you make of it. Which is true. But you can't ALWAYS be happy. (I guess it ain't my turn yet.) Then as soon as I did, things started looking up. The girls I was trying to date finally said they had boyfriends, allowing me to cross em off the list. Then I met a real nice lady whom I had a great time talking to, and even asked me to go to church with her. (Yea my mom would fucking love THAT.)

I, being me, got content. Complacent. And started to slip w/the prayers. 'Happiness' got the best of me, I started picking up more shifts at work because I felt good, and didn't give God enough credit I guess. I mean, how much is 'enough'?? Did I expend all my happiness too quickly? Was it time for God to take it back? Did I fuck up and let my self-absorption get in the way of humility? I became one of those fucking Sunday Catholics. The kind who ask for help when they need it. The kind who go to church on Sunday morning pretending to give peace to everyone, only to get back in their cars at the end of mass and call the guy who parked in front of them a "fucking asshole who could've parked elsewhere." Yup, I slipped. I'm that guy who just grabs and goes, then goes down the road telling everyone they have road rage when I'm telling them to fuck the hell off with a pistol in hand.

A friend said that perhaps God is testing me. And at the end of it all, I will have lived a fuller life than others. Really? A test, that drives you to self-fucking-up-ness? To cigarettes and alcohol? Test after test after test, layered upon itself like a piece of paper folded many times, increasing its thickness exponentially? At least that has an end. A test with no end? Great.

I guess I'll just take the pennies and live with 'em. Fuck life.