The Killer Who Lost His Mind

Some people work for money or for enjoyment, even to work just with their friends. Those kinds of people want to be adjusted into their sacrifice. I totally understand. It makes sense. Why work somewhere where you would be unhappy and work with people you don’t like, I mean sure you might get paid good enough money, but for some people they value their mind they don’t want stress they don’t want to grow old and tired from hard work and be weak minded because they didn’t want to work with their childhood friend. Sure, they’d be more rich but then they’d just be more unhappy in retirement. I said I understood it, but did I?
I mean It’s just the way life goes.

That’s what I hate in life however. Having to work hard and then be unhappy. It’s not a ploy to convince people against capitalism no, because most of the time in any part of the world the agony of retirement and loneliness is unavoidable. Might as well die young and happy then live old and sad.
Then again who’s to say retirement is sad. You’d get to spend time with your family. I was worried about something that wouldn’t affect me. Why had it been on my mind recently?

My work on the other hand is simple. I’m a gang member. A paid killer. A monster to some. A crook to many, and a hard worker by income standards.

Most of the time I’m more of the courier sort. Paid to watch and report like some stalker or private investigator

It’s illegal work and frowned upon to those same people who live unhappy. Are they jealous? Was I in denial? No they just know it’s wrong, and I can’t justify what I do cause even sometimes I’m told to do things I don’t agree with but I don’t care I’m just content with the whole thing. Completely emotionally detached. It worries me from time to time, but I would be that good at my job if were so sympathetic.