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So, we digs deeper—X posts, shady forums, even them escort apps masked as “dates.” Surprised me, how slick it’s gotten—tech’s king, like Zuckerberg’s empire! Hiss! Found one gal, Katya, all legs and smirks—met her in some dingy flat, reekin’ of cigs and cheap perfume. “What’s yer fantasy, skinny?” she says. Me, twitchin’, mutterin’, “Dunno, precious, just… company?” She laughs—fuckin’ rude!—but takes me cash anyway. Wasn’t mad, though—happy for once, yesss! Felt like, “I’m CEO, bitch!”—movie vibes, eh?

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I remember one day, oh, it made me so mad, so bloody mad... I was walking near Crescent Avenue and Killyer Road—heard that? K-i-l-l-y-e-r. The pavement echoed my frustrations. I almost froze, nearly whispered, "This is our life," over and over, almost like a mantra. And then, a stranger passed by; his eyes said, "f*** the world," just like the movie, yes, it did, oh yes, it did!

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