Becoming a Nonbeliever

I no longer believe in extremes, in boozing until vomiting or betting it all on a long-shot.   

I no longer believe in loitering on the sidelines while the world buzzes about.  After all, what good has ever happened to an innocent bystander? 

I no longer believe that I need to reinvent my cool to meet your preconceived notions.  Even if my jeans and/or shirt are tragically out of style, I am a bad enough motherfucker to wear them with swagger.  Believe that. 

I no longer believe the night in the pool hall really happened, when I was sucker punched for the first time in this life.  Therefore, I no longer believe in turning the other cheek, despite scripture or common sense.  Always swing first, lest you end up on the ground with a swollen lip and blood taunting your taste buds. 

I no longer believe in the corny parables people blindly apply to life.  A penny saved may be a penny earned, but not after taxes.  Is a false positive a true negative?  Depends on what you believe, I guess.

I no longer believe that history only winks and nudges at the truth; even when it’s hidden, reality ultimately tells its shitty story with the brashness of a raised middle finger.  Or a swift kick to the groin. You get the point. 

I no longer believe in a politician’s phony version of peace, since it always involves infinitely more warfare and death than any peace I would envision.  I no longer believe in weapons of mass destruction – oh wait, I never did believe in them, or their existence.  Does that mean I no longer believe in America, or that America has digressed beyond belief?  Do you believe I’m unpatriotic for asking?  Do I care? 

I no longer believe that life forces you to grow up eventually; there are too many immature deadbeats for that to be true.  

I no longer believe there’s an athlete who doesn’t cheat.  And who can blame them?  Look at their salaries. 

I no longer believe that all people are evil, yet I don’t open my front door for just anybody.  In fact, I double check the locks every night.  That’s because I pretty much no longer believe humans don’t know how to be human, or humane. 

I no longer believe that on the day I was born my father smiled, because he was a poker-faced individual who never showed joy, even when his son brought home straight A’s or sank a mid-range jump shot.  I no longer believe that I won’t eventually become him, if I haven’t already, jaded toward a world that expects us all to believe in the make-believe it passes off as gospel.