Because he gets to do whatever he wants! He gets to go to cafes and draw dumb things and he probably got drunk there too, with his stupid sister. He even got to get a tattoo and everyone loves him for it, everyone adores him for it. But people hate us. He's an attention grubbing idiot. He has a job. He can't fess up to anything, he just keeps lying to himself.
In hindsight, this poem is awfully childish. My stream of consciousness as of late hasn't been pretty, but I thought I'd try documenting my thoughts real time. Bear with me.