I don't usually talk about my personal shit in these notes, but there's something that's been bothering me since before even becoming what the world classifies as an "adult."
So, when I was 20, I dropped out of college. I had stopped going to classes, and basically spent my days locked inside the hermitage that was my dorm room. I wasted time online, I ate junk food, I slept whenever the hell I wanted, I didn't excercise at all, and basically didn't leave my room except to eat and to occasionally socialize. And while even then I recognized that being an overweight, lethargic, unproductive, class-flunking drain on my parents and society was a bad thing, I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't change my behavior, because at long last, I was finally doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, with no immediate consequences. And I didn't even think it was all that bad, because at least I wasn't hurting anyone or getting drunk or stoned. All I really did was sleep. Even as I stopped going out to see my friends, even as I started having nightmares that started to blend in with my reality, I clung to that lifestyle of hedonism and parasitism.
When finally the ball dropped, I was brought home feeling like a failure. While both my parents were above and beyond college graduates and both my younger siblings were making better grades in high school than I ever did, in that moment, I was the loser of the family. Whatever spark drove people to better themselves, to pursue something to the point where they could work themselves past their limit, I didn't have it. I had no motivation. I maintain that I still don't, and that I only keep trying to impress my family, my friends, and all the people that matter to me. There is nothing, not a pursuit, not an art, not an ideal, not a single thing I have or know of that can drive me to the point the world expects me to be moving at.
Four years have passed since then. I'm a college graduate, I have a relatively steady job, I excerise twice a week, I have a regular social life, and there is not a single day of the week that I'm not doing something. And that makes me lucky - I'm finally fitting in, I'm finally doing something, I'm finally just about the way I'm supposed to be.
Only I'm not.
I'm so far away from what I feel like I'm "supposed to be," that I don't even know who I am anymore. I'm being productive, I'm doing things right, I'm excercising, I'm taking responsibility, I'm working, I'm out of my bed every morning with something to do that day.
And that's not who I am. That's not who I've ever been. That's not who I want to be. Everyone I know would ask why I wouldn't want to be in the position that I'm in. I'm three months out of college, and I already have a steady job. I'm doing things exactly right, and I'm incredibly lucky to have managed to get here. Why wouldn't I want to be me? What's there to complain about?
If this is the way I'm supposed to be, if this is what life is supposed to be like, why do I feel more like a conformist than a success story? Why is 'the way my life's supposed to be' so far removed from the 'me' that I see in the mirror? I would give anything to go back to that life of slacking off and doing nothing in my dorm. This is a person who gets up before noon, who works out, who keeps himself active. This isn't me! All I want to do is NOTHING! Why isn't that possible? Why isn't it possible to even function in this world without doing the exact OPPOSITE of the most primal urge in my body?
I've done it, haven't I? I've got everything a well-rounded, functioning individual should have. This is supposed to be what everyone should aspire to be. This is supposed to be a good life. Why is it so hard for me to enjoy it? Why would I want to give all this up to go back to living like a mollusk in a cave? That's not supposed to be what I want...so why is it? What makes me so different from everyone else that makes me crave doing nothing so much? Doing nothing is CLEARLY not a virtue...I have six years of experience to prove that much. But why am I someone who wants nothing more than to just...exist, and do nothing else? Why do I find the life of a bacterium preferable to the awesome one I have? I have everything a man should want - wonderful friends, wonderful family, and a future ahead of me.
Isn't this supposed to be enough?
