Poetic justice

Isn't it saccharinely beautiful that when you type the word failure into Google, the first page you see is a biography of George W. Bush? Same thing for miserable failure. Forget Google-bombing - that is justice. Sweet, poetic justice. And I care not what other people say, the man deserves to burn in hell. Nuff said.
The stories of lost youth around me...tales of sex in dirty bathrooms, lost virginity in the backseats of cars, coke inhaled through a crisp hundred-dollar bill. And yet I remain pristine while surrounded by this filth.
Or do I?
No bathroom sex for me, no backseat sex, no drugs. My vices are coffee and cigarettes, and the occasional drink of Scotch or rum. My vices are too much reading and even more writing. My overactive imagination that means that my characters come alive for me. I could reach across this table and touch Adam's face if I wasn't so afraid he'd disappear.
Enough crazy talk. No more hallucinations, Ari. You can do this.

"You want me to fall in line? Sorry, I've never learned to follow. I'll make my own way, and I don't care if you say it's the wrong way. I'm not damned because you believe I am. Fuck you and the God who leads you."