"... and he could have been so much more."

Filling my lungs with smoke, my shaking hand barely able to hold the cigarette. Closing my eyes, searching inside, trying to find something, anything strong enough to keep me breathing. A god, a savior, or even just a pleasant memory to smile about. Anything but a chemical. The shaking gets worse as I try to take another puff, blowing smoke through my nose, mustering all the will I have to keep still long enough to down another shot. The warm sensation burning my throat, calming myself to the point where the manic shaking halts and I sit there, staring blankly at the television.

What's the point? After all, meaning in life is subjective but after the subjectivity there will always be an underlining meaninglessness. We are born, we mate, reproduce, then we die. Simple animals running around so consumed with pursuit of the trivial. A new car, a new job, a new girlfriend, a house on a lake. What does any of it matter? Get born, find a mate, breed, then we die. All there is to it. Everything in between is of absolutely no consequence.

Finishing the little bit left in the bottle and throwing it against the wall, no shattering of glass, just a dull thud as it falls to the ground like the others. Forcing myself to move, walking to the bathroom and washing my face. As the water drips down my chin I look into the mirror. Staring back at me is the sum total of nothing. A shell, a corpse, everything and nothing at all. 0 + 0 will always equal 0, and this mathematical equation has incarnated into the flesh. Vile, ugly, useless. broken beyond all repair, as divine as a god that never cared. I turn away in disgust. A line seems more tempting, the pills start pleading, and the needle needs me.

Slamming my fist into the wall, storming off to my room, reaching for the stash I promised to have thrown away. Images of her flash in my head, the way she felt, such joy has been vanquished, romance seems rather pointless at this point. How can she love someone when nothing is left? Human beings, without a doubt are the worst drug of them all. Thinking of friends now, how the concept of friendship seems a giant waste of emotional energy. The only thing that's always there, that always cares, is a chemical cocktail.

Filling my mouth as I open up another 5th. Swallowing failure, ending my brief romance with a second chance, and giving the finger to any hope that lingered. Moving to the computer desk I begin chopping a line with a razor, Taking the time to make sure it's straight, nice, and neat. Lighting up a cigarette and dipping the butt end in the crystallized white powder. Breathing in a hit and feeling the numbing of my lips, slowly exhaling the smoke and getting ready to indulge in my favorite poison. When the pills kick in and blacking out occurs, face down in the mechanism of my own demise, the cigarette left burning to the floor. I’ve been swept away, forever to be known as “He could have been so much more.”

My mid-mid life crisis

Dear reader,

I’d like to discuss an under reported psychological phenomena that may very well be affecting a young adult near and dear to your heart. Often over shadowed, this condition has the power to irreversibly alter the course of an individual’s life. Sometimes this change is for the better, often times it’s for the worst. We’ve all heard of a “mid life crisis”. It’s the condition suffered by those who’ve realized that all the time and energy spent over the last forty or so years has resulted in a dull existence completely void of satisfaction and kept functional only by heavy psychiatric medication. What makes this so traumatic is the knowledge that they will never be capable of regaining those years. This middle aged individual, fueled by regrets, haunted by “What could have been”, and “What should have been”, are compelled into all kinds of irrational behavior in a vain attempt to recapture their youth.

So then, let us come to understand what exactly a mid-mid life crisis is, or as it may also be known “Post high school reality check syndrome”. It is the result of false promises, endless self esteem building exercises, and unrealistic expectations given to the younger generation. In the age when kids are told there are no losers, where medals are given for just showing up, where adults fill children with false hope about how “They can be whatever they want to be”. All this endless coddling has produced an entire generation of kids that expect success in life just be handed to them by no merits other than simply being themselves. This leads to a very nerve wrecking experience once they leave the safe nurturing confines of high school and find themselves thrown into the lion’s den that is the real world.

Faced with the sobering realization that life isn’t fair, that success is more based on luck than skill, and that the odds of singing at The Grammy’s or playing in The NBA are slim to none, one is quite likely to feel overwhelmed. This burdening feeling will then soon give way to deep self reflection. Time will seem to pass faster and faster and all you can think about is that you refuse to end up a fat old man on a motorcycle, wearing a hopelessly cliché jacket on your way to marry a prostitute in Vegas. While that example may be a little extreme, it serves to illustrate my point that the most pressing thought on the individual’s mind is that they don’t want make the same mistakes of their elders and allow their youth to get sucked away in a whirlwind of unfulfilled dreams and disappointment. Getting stuck in a rat race chasing the next paycheck until they are fifty five years old and come to realize that all they have worked for has been for nothing since it still has not made them a happy human being.

It was this kind of thinking that made me leave the comfortable environment of my Michigan home and move to California with two close friends and swear to live as a gypsy. By that I don’t mean actually wearing funny clothes and practicing some strange exotic religion. I merely mean swearing to myself that for the next ten years I will never spend more than eight months in any single city. It was three years ago when I took this oath and I am proud to say I have lived by it faithfully. The time I spent traveling California wasn’t without its problems but even the crappiest of situations led to exciting stories I’m sure I will tell my grandchildren once they reach the age where it’s okay to use profanity. I was forced to socialize with all walks of life, see the best and worst of the so called “American Dream”, and develop street smarts and social skills that will prove invaluable during the course of my existence. Fast forward a few years. The phone rings and it’s my Mother. She’s not feeling well and begs me to stay with my family in North Carolina for several months to a year. My first response was to laugh and tell her absolutely in no way would I ever live in such close proximity to red neck zombie, pick up truck driving, right wing voting, hillbilly cannibals. This was due to my only experience with the south being from watching such classic films as “Texas Chainsaw Massacre”, and “The Hills Have Eyes”.

Then after much pleading and negotiating I was somehow convinced to give North Carolina a shot. I figured it would be a good point to launch my exploration of the East Coast, and broaden my horizons culturally. While there doesn’t seem to be much in the way of culture in Louisburg, I have sensed a unique simple charm from a good majority of this state’s residents. What’s next for me? Who knows? I certainly don’t. I’m just steady busy figuring out the whole growing process while making sure my zip code changes every six to eight months. Will living like a vagabond lead to a fulfilling life and no regrets? No, but it certainly does sound like a whole hell of a lot of fun.