Muscles? Not my forte. Irony? Sledgehammer. Silence? Soft as a mouse.
Yet, conspicuously average for an Asian. An underachiever.
Obviously, I'm smart...but socially inept. I get by like others.
Very few Indians are charming and guileless. I am neither. My spouse?
Enough about women. As a man I have failed too often to mention.
Remember, I get by. Neither good nor evil. I am no believer.
Cock-up from start to end. I was born a Rooster to four or five mothers.
Obviously, I'm sharp...but slow, methodical. I'll catch up in a week.
Muscles on other men make me look pathetic. I lack such pretension.
Puerile since my childhood. Perhaps I'm simply stuck. Nobody notices.
Everything has it's place. A place for everything. Still our place is a mess.
Not that I lack all charm. I was a married man. Don't send condolences.
Still, I wish I could be like others, but I can't. I can't even confess.
As for the Church, I gave it up for Lent. Bad joke. I know. I mustn't speak...
The dead? Like my father. Like so many old friends. I'm as bad as a louse.
I lack humility. California swagger. My path? Good intention.
Obviously, I paved the road to perdition. Perhaps I am a freak.
Neither wife, nor children. No property. No car. No shotgun shack. My house...
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