In the drama of my life, the plot is rambling and the protagonist is one-dimensional, at best.
I must admit I found the prose of your life a bit stilted.
"He thought about the bank account, thinking harder and harder about its number, getting real weird with his face."
What the hell is that?
You think I enjoyed this garbage?
"He looked at a butt on the Internet, and then another, and so on, until, what was left of his dignity?"
Was this written by a dog at a computer?
A Pulitzer life was never in my cards.
Maybe the next one will have a protagonist with pecs.