All around me I see people that I grew up with that do ”grown up” things. They study, travel, clean their apartment, exercise, eat healthy. The other day I watched Family Guy and I remembered that all my friends in 5th grade loved that show. I still love Family Guy just as much as back then, but I wondered how many of my 5th grade classmates still loves Family Guy. As I thought about each of them, I came to the realization that probably not many of them do. That makes me depressed and happy at the same time. Happy because they do stuff that make them progress in life. Depressed because I feel like I’ve been stuck at the same place forever. I used to love the fact that I refused to grow up. I still do, but now I feel ashamed of it. Then I get more angry at myself because I feel ashamed of a characteristic of mine that I like.
One of my ways to deal with this is to write. This feeling that I’m describing here is what my current book in progress is all about. That feeling of being stuck. I don’t know, I feel like I’m just rambling at this point. I just thought life would be easier ten years ago and then I met Life and it sucker punched me in my face. Now I’m laying on the concrete bleeding out of my broken nose while everybody walks by.
The loser on the ground wishes you well