I’ve been doing this thing lately. It’s called College, spending time with a girl that I really like, and hanging with the one friend I have left in this world. The last one I’ve been neglecting in some fashion for a while, but its only because the first two drain me of all physical energy and bodily fluids.
You get to a point in your life when you start stopping and thinking about just how tired you are. I walk from my car parked in the Pierce Parking lot to my class, and I think to myself, Jesus three hours to go, I’m going to get there, and sit down, and have the teacher talk random gibberish for 20 minutes, take roll for 10 minutes, and then teach me some stuff I will proceed to pack into the debris that is my mind.
Writers, we think we are so good at getting this stuff across to the average Joe, just describing the challenge or blessing that everyday life is, but who are we kidding. We are all just artists trying, constantly trying, constantly coming up short in our own views, until we die. People say we have our Gatsby’s, but when everyone agrees that they are, except us, then are they really our hotel California?
We keep advancing, with technology, new ways to do things, make existing errands easier, but we just never come even remotely close to a utopia.
I lie there on top of her body, and I push myself inside her, not worrying about just maybe the never-ending consequence that even the slightest residue of my members will have on my life. I do this, completely and totally in the moment.
We think we are getting better, but we are really just getting better at denying how shitty it all is.