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I've always been a shithead.
I wasn't born one, but I might as well have been - it wouldn't have made that much of a difference.

I relied on the few friends I had in my twenties, but in the end, all they did was call me Mr. Shithead behind my back. I guess they figured I wasn't cool enough to steal everything that wasn't nailed down.

...and the funny thing is, is that I figured that it would stop in school, that calling people things was immature things that children do, that people grow up sooner or later.

Didn't happen. I'm still Mr. Shithead. ...except now I'm Mr. Shithead to the police, to the so called "justice" system, to shrinks, and to many women too.

I'm really glad that perhaps one or two people know be by a different name. I mean you kind of forget your own name when everyone keeps calling you Mr. Shithead. Maybe I'm just under the delusion that I'm called something else.

...but it's not really a comfort to know that I'm Mr. Shithead to the rest of the world, and will probably still be until I die.

It's weird.
...but in a way all this s**t is kind of refreshing too, I guess.
Just look at all the s**t I've found.
You don't have my s**t, and you never will.
I'd rather live in a true sewer, than a phony air castle.