Ported from a dead account

What was he like? Uh... You know, he was nothing, really. He was, uh, you know, no kind of man. He was not, uh... particularly funny or smart or kind or... You know, he was just, uh... He was just some guy.

You try your damndest not to be "just some guy," and in the end you're just some guy. It feels like every lineage has one. Cause, I mean, I was afraid of my dad, but his dad was even worse, and yet he made something out of himself. But me, I'm a snowflake generation, I make up excuses. But hey, I had an actual demon in my apartment once. Now, how many people can say that? Probably the highlight of my life, so, thanks, demon, whoever you are. When I die, I want that to be acknowledged on my tombstone. Or at least the fact that I was a writer. But not both things simultaneously, cause then people will think I made that shit up because apparently that's what us writers do. "All writing is pigshit," isn't that right?