![]() ![]() Who catered to my every emotional need when I was a kid. I didn’t have his money, or his power, but I did have a family who loved me. What Christmases must’ve been like for him. I just hoped Vic being Vicious didn’t make me his Nancy.Īs I prepared the essential DVDs to watch after dinner (it wasn’t Christmas without It’s A Wonderful Life playing in the background as you struggled your way through a food coma), I thought about Vicious as a child. Their white skin against their black hair, their flippant attitude, and their zero-fucks-given approach. They actually had a few things in common. Maybe that’s why I smiled like a fool as I strutted my way from the record shop with a Sex Pistols album tucked under my forearm. In fact, the only thing we’d seemed to have in common was our mutual love for punk rock and grunge. Vicious was big on music, I remembered that from when we were teenagers. It was a hassle to go shopping on Christmas Eve, but I wanted to get him something. When there was nothing casual about what I felt for him. Not so casual like the rest of the things we did. To have dinner with him on Christmas Eve, it felt important somehow. ![]() He always thought of himself as blackness, but the truth was, he injected so many different pigments into my existence. ![]()
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