Him

A lot of people learn to dispose of their bad habits throughout life but not him. He collected and curated them as part of his own personal museum of dysfunction that was on display for all to see, free of charge and open to the public seven days a week.  For some people he was more like a theatre that blurred the line between actor and audience demanding participation as well as victimization in the unknown plot of his tragedy.  Chores ranging from janitorial to managerial were usually abdicated to whoever was near and capable or gullible or ignorant enough to accept him as a responsibility when he appeared in the storyline of their life.  Their demise was just another display culminating in the sum total of who he was, another tragic act leaving distant observers wondering how the story would ever resolve and conclude itself.  Hope had long ago been displaced in those that cared about him; displaced by a disappointment they could no longer bear.