Mr. F: "Here we are. Just having some peanuts and some cola."

Mr. F: "What am I doing here? What am I doing? I think I ask that question every day, every other day. What am I doing? What am I doing right now? "

Mr. F: "When I was seven or eight, I thought I would be working at my dream job, have a wife, maybe a house, probably an apartment, not have to worry so much about the future. All the crap, all the drama, all the simpletons I had to be surrounded by would be no more. I would've moved, I would've been living in a city with my line of work where I would be surrounded by like-minded individuals. All of us pooling our resources together and create something pleasing, something great, something we can all be proud of. We would all be celebrating our accomplishments. We would get along. Not have to be drowning in so much bullshit."

Mr. F: "I thought all of this was going to happen when I was twenty-five, maybe late twenties or early thirties, something like that. I'd have a child or children, have a complete family with a lovely wife. But as time has proven to me, none of that has come true."

Mr. F: "If my elementry school self saw how I turned out at twenty-five because that's when I thought all the grandier stuff would've happened at twenty-five or so, he's going to call me a fucking loser. Okay? He's probably just going to kill himself, ha ha ha ha! 'Oh my god! That's me? In, like, what? In, like, eighteen years? That's going to be me? No. No! This is not what I worked for. This is not what patience should get you.'"

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Mr. F: "Sorry, my younger self. I'm sorry you're a fucking loser. Okay? I guess the thing is, there are a lot more people whose plans don't go the way they planned. Like, this is the one thing I absolutely hate, the one thing I hate in job interviews where they ask you something like, 'Oh, where do you see yourself in five or ten years or in the future in general?' The answer is I don't fucking know. And I think, I think many people, maybe even most people, they don't know where the fuck they're going to be in the next five or ten years. And yet at job interviews, they got to ask that question. It's the worst question. 'Yeah, in five years I expect, I see myself being hated by my classmates, almost everyone around me for not following the norms that seem to be ever changing these days. I mean, some of it is probably good. But a lot of it is harmful to people around them and to themselves as well as it's proven objectively. And yet, somehow, I have to conform to this idiocy."

Mr. F: "No. I refuse. I didn't see this happening in five years. Well, it happened and now many people hate me and many people can't even have a discussion nowadays. It's just me eating these peanuts and drinking some cola. Talking to myself. Man! Man, it's really fucked up. I sure can't wait to see myself in ten years. I can't wait to hear about all the new, different poison we're going to be drinking. I can't wait to be eating bugs and be castrated and be evil for eating hamburgers. I sure can't wait to be eating soybeans and maggots for dinner. I can't for everybody to have $30 minimum wage. I can't wait for the world to be owned by five companies and that's all we got. Yeah. I'll just enjoy my cola and my peanuts."