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ALL BAD BOYS COME FROM SOMEWHERE...

They call me every name in the book, and every one is true.

Violent. 

Criminal. 

Bad news.

 

And if they’re lucky, I’ll take my anger out on a punching bag instead their faces.

If  they’re lucky.

 

Then I meet her.

Sophisticated.

Successful.

More culture in her finger than I have in my entire body.

 

She says I have more to offer the world than my fists. She says I can pick my own direction instead of taking the one I’m given.

 

But tell me, beautiful,  how do you do that, when you don’t know where to go?

How do you find the right path when your compass is broken?