Nobody cares about the trails you've gone through if you ever end up in a good spot. During your ascension you'll be loved for a little bit. Some get lucky and it lasts years. But the slide from being a hero to villain is abrupt. So if you ever find yourself the hero, cherish it while it lasts.

Unless of course you are the people's hero. The one in the mud. The one who's not quote unquote winning. Then you don't need to cherish it, because in fact you'll stay the people's hero forever. People love to champion a hero who can never win. The one who fights the good fight but never gets what they want. The one who might be featured in a 

Vice

documentary about a hopeless issue where what they're fighting for makes sense but has no chance of seeing actualization. Those kinds of heroes will stay heroes forever. They're the anti-Bezos.

So anyways, now that I've got that off my chest, I want to admit to you something my friend. My lonely soul at the other side of these words who happen to be reading this. Today I act like the people's champion. I pretend to act like I never wanted to win. I pretend to care more about the cause. But I've failed and deep down I always wanted to be the winning hero. But I wasn't willing to accept the cost of that, wasn't willing to become the villain.... so now here I am. Loved by my people, but effectively useless. Effectively ineffective.

Here is how it all happened:

It started when I moved into the Kenberry house in the middle of July on a surprisingly cool summer. Maisey had been waiting for me at the house with all of her stuff already moved in. She had taken the best room, but the second best room was still an impressive and amazing space. I had no qualms about taking it.

"A beer?"

It was one PM. But my next 'plan' I had scheduled wasn't until August. A whole month away. Why not have a beer right now? Who cared about the time? I didn't.

The

beer

was room temperature, just like Maisey liked it. For some reason she was against ice cold beer, which used to rub me the wrong way until I drank enough times with her that I started to appreciate it. I even sometimes drank my beer room temperature, so long as it was a cool enough room and the beer was decent. 

This time she had a 

Mexican

beer. Not 

Modelo

and not 

Corona

. I don't remember it now. But this was not a good beer to have room temperature. I learned this later when I had a refrigerated one weeks later when I'd come home already drunk from the bars.

But still. We got all my stuff moved in, room temperature beer and all, and I was finally moved in. This isn't to say that my space was organized and unpacked, but all my belongings were now physically inside the house. Things were looking good. 

I took a deep breath and finished off the last of my 2nd can of beer when I checked my phone for the first time since 1. I had five textx. Just enough to get you really excited. 

Two of them were from Jameson who happened to be downtown. 

Come play pool with me, motherfucker

Nvm i'm done. im coming over. hope ur home

That's when I heard the porch door open. 

Jameson had light footsteps for his size. He was 6'2, 220 and yet from his steps you'd think that he was just an average sized guy. 

"Hey motherfucker. Welcome back to Eastville." 

He was carrying a 15 pack of 

Busch Light

. It was ice cold. He opened it and gave me a can before taking one himself. He chugged it in one go and goaded me to do the same.

"Come on!"

"What?"

"Chug!"

So I chugged it. Finished it just as Maisey came out to the screened off porch area. 

"Oh who is this?"

"Hi, Jameson." he said while offering his hand... not for a handshake to Maisey but a can of Busch Light.