Now me and this place are starting to have some history together. I take a walk down to the point at the end of Rushcutter bay. It looks back, north west, to the city and the harbour bridge. I feel strength breathe in me, I feel pride, like maybe I fucking made it after all, yea, maybe I did.
I escaped that drizzling rat gutter. Swapped for a place just as cold and dangerous beneath the smiling surface, but I’d sooner meet my end here in the sun beside the sea with some kind of belief in my heart, than back there in the cold, grey lament of a failed life.
It’s never going to be easy, and it is always going to be a big fucking joke to someone. And I am still making all those schoolboy errors that lose me favour and somedays lose me friends too. But I found a picture, got sent it by my mum, in fact, and it is of me, before the bastards got hold me and turned me into what I am now. And I was smiling, a big toothy grin, and I was happy. And just to know and remember I felt that once, yea, that was enough. It made it ok, you know, whatever happens.