I
should have started this earlier, like two or three months ago, I
can´t remember how long I´ve been here. It is definitely more than
six weeks or two rents, that much I am sure about. It´s actually not
that long, is it? Yet, I have managed to learn a few things.
First,
I discovered that I am much more incapable of living the life of
average white man somehow getting through the academic period of his
life to comfortable future of being the king of suburbia with his
wife, two kids, dog and a fucking mortgage. I am much more pathetic
than that, in the eyes of majority of
people at least, not able to find a lousy
student job, not able to cook any decent food, hell, not even able to
leave these four walls most of the time, but at least I can still consider
myself someone with at least half a soul left, which sounds even more
pathetic from someone like me, but I still keep refusing the life of
a member of this
consumer society. Good for me, huh?
Second,
all the time I am meeting people that somehow haven´t given up, good
for them for instance, I guess, but every time seeing them, talking
to them, I can´t help myself but to be
more than slightly amused. Ladies, gentleman, and those of you who
find themselves somewhere in between, I don´t really hate to break
it to you but trust me, none of us will go down in history, although
I am more than likely to go down on your girlfriends, lovers, or
fucking sisters for all I care. Ambition is the greatest enemy of
success. I´m pretty sure I read that somewhere cause it doesn´t
feel like it´s from my head but I think you´ll get the meaning of
it.
You
see, when you have an ambition that you cannot fulfil you end up
bitter, alone and unhappy, very much like myself, when you meet your
goals, you always get another ambition, another ghost to chase, and
you may move around in this circle for quite a while but in the end,
there´s always one last unfilled ambition, on finish line to cross,
and you´re not gonna make it. You´ll die empty and meaningless...so
basically the same way we all live...and the circle finally closes.
Every
time I decide to actually leave my house, which luckily doesn´t
happen very often, I meet these people. All of them looking for
something, looking for meaning, love, fuck of a lifetime, happiness,
soul mates and surprisingly no one is good enough for them, no one is
charming enough, no one is pretty enough, no one is smart enough, no one is old enough, no
one is adventurous enough, no one is positive enough, no one is real
enough, no one and nothing feels just right. I am not sure about
material aspects of life, although I suppose narcotics might be quite
fulfilling, but the people who can provide you things such as fuck
of a lifetime or connection on a spiritual
level, won´t be found in universities, McDonald´s,
clubs on Friday night or calm British afternoon.
They
sit alone in their rooms for days surrounded by incredible collection
of plates, half-empty mugs of cold black tea, glasses of rum and
cola, because they are not even strong enough to drink straight
shots, poor writer´s notes, books by Kerouac, coffee, filters, they
are running low on cigarette papers, they don´t know how they´re
gonna pay their next rent, they don´t know how they´re gonna buy
food few days from now but they still have about 80 pounds left so
they act careless, they forget to brush their teeth every now and
then, they have been high or drunk for about 20 days in a row, I
suppose, I´ve lost the count on my person by now, they live alone,
they breathe alone, they sleep alone and in the end they die alone
because no one managed to find them, but most importantly, they can´t
be bothered.
Wise
man once said: “We live alone, we die alone. Everything else is
just an illusion.” Why should I make any effort then? For an
illusion? At the end of the day, nothing makes sense anyway, nothing
feels real, nothing feels like it´s worth a while, why should we be
bothered then? We just lie down, put on some tasty rock n´ roll or a
movie, pour a drink, light a cigarette, maybe spice it up with a
little Mary Jane and then masturbate ourselves to sleep.
We
are matter but we don´t matter.
I
always have either strong endings or I fuck up everything, I´ve
built up in the paragraphs above, unlike real life I think in writing
I´ve managed to get the first option at least once, but here I feel
like it´s going to be the second one.
All
I have left to say is that these are the thoughts that I have been
having and going through for the last few weeks, now, if you excuse
your new favourite writer, I think he has some rum left to drink,
some tobacco left to smoke and some self-pity to wallow in. In the
meantime, you all can wait if he makes it to the next chapter.
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