I was born 27 years ago. It’s a terrifying thought as you grow older. To some, it’s another rotation around the ever expanding sun, but I’m indifferent. My work place surprised me with a cake and candles to match. I was absolutely speechless and had the most heartfelt gratitude for all my co-workers whom I consider my friends. I don’t even like cake and declined a piece for myself — much to the surprise of everyone around me. I told everyone my sincerest thoughts and appreciation for all they’ve given me, both when helping me meet deadlines and for sharing a bit about themselves. I felt loved even though my life has been falling apart and crumbling lately.
I came clean. I told everyone how tired I was. How much pressure I felt. How I was taking Xanax on and off for part of the year. It was ruining me and everyone suspected it. It’s an interesting feeling when you take an anti-anxiety pill. I’ll admit I have the hardest time relaxing and finding ways to just unwind from a long day. A little white bar makes the ills of living go away in an instant, but I’ve been cheating — and not without its’ consequences. My memory has completely gone and I have a hard time recalling why I even got up from my desk and walked down the stairs on some days. I’m scared and should be.
It’s a trade off. Take a pill prone to high abuse and feel the relaxation you desperately want, but lose your own ability to think. The choice should be obvious, but I haven’t been in a good place all winter. I deserve better, need an alternative, and should treat myself better. I only have one body, one mind, and one heart. I’ve lost part of myself these past few weeks and am not ashamed to admit it to the world. My GM and I had a heartfelt discussion about whats been going on and I needed that. He said he admires my work ethic, my commitment, how I carry the company, and reminded him of one of his beloved friends who share the same attitude. He shared his past experiences with drug abuse and how he knew I was falling down the same hole. I was deeply touched, more so that he and everyone else cares for me.
My little white bars are gone. I’ll force myself not to take them anymore. I always thought giving up cigarettes and alcohol was my biggest hurdle, but somehow I’ve fallen into a new trap. My foot is caught, but not for long. I’ve had help, words of love and appreciation, and will use that as motivation to stop. It’s time I became myself again.
I’ve accomplished so much this year and I’ve somehow let the last remaining weeks fall to pieces. I’ve gone from feeling completely untouchable to a sheer state of absolute vulnerability. My addictive personality took over once again. This time it wasn’t for love, lust, someone I’ve fallen for, or the usual suspects I always joke about. Seems only fitting I usually find myself preoccupied with distraction after distraction.
Of my closest group of friends, they all consider me to be the most well-off — whatever the fuck that means today. I’m trying hard to set up a bright future for myself and am fixated on ever more ambitious goals. I should be thankful, grateful, feel accomplished, and most days, I truly am. It’s been a real ride since graduation. I’ve had about 7 jobs, bought 2 cars, one accident, and paid off half my student loan, and given away over $1200 this year to my friends and family. Objectively, I’ve gotten somewhere great so far. I have vices, but know I have it where it counts in life.
My friends and I all agreed one night if I ever completely fall off the rails or find myself with someone who doesn’t have my best interests in mind — yet I’m somehow too naive or love struck to see it, that they ever so generously slap me as hard as they can across the face. I need that awakening and a quick reality check.
I’m sorry for the lie. I’m sorry for letting myself down. I’m not perfect and will never claim to be.
I started the year flat lining –> to finding a new opportunity –> to feeling like the absolute image of success –> to falling madly for someone at my highest of highs –> to feeling the sheer weight of the world crushing me –> and now hitting rock bottom. Every year is parabolic, but I’m ready to ride the wave.
Winter 2018: I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore, but I’ll soul search for as long as I have to. I’ve wandered off the path and into the woods. No compass. No North Star. Not even my vision to guide me. One of my oldest friends since elementary recommended I start with the basics. She’s right and is a nurse — there must be some truth to it. Find something enjoyable (and healthy) to preoccupy your time she said. Why can’t more people be like her?
I might just reactivate my dormant lookbook account and take OOTD pics once again. But fashion is an expensive hobby — if you can even call it that. I may not have it all together but I can at least dress like it. Afterall, a well-fitted suit is basically modern day body armor — 40% silk and made in France by Givenchy no less. I’ve always been passionate about fashion and clothing — both for men and women. I’ve only ever met two other women who share the same level of appreciation for clothes as I do. One moved from OC to Chicago to chase her dreams. The other never could tell me the truth.
I obsess over aesthetics and design. I might just buy a few books on pattern making, rolls of fabric, and borrow my Grandma’s sewing machine if it somehow makes the end of the year more bearable. Before I went to PCC, I wanted to go to Parsons to learn design — I still kind of do.
Half of November flew by, but there’s always December to look forward to. I have a month and a half to set myself straight. If by some miracle that happens, 2019 will be my best year yet. If all goes to plan, by 2022 I’ll have a condo, a place to call my own in my favorite city, and can truly say I’ve lived the American dream. Fight me world. The flood water is creeping in, but I’m a tidal wave.
I’m just a guy trying to find his place in the universe and if you want to come along for the journey, there’s always room for two. There is no destination, but I’ll promise we’ll both get to the outer reaches of the cosmos. I’ll throw myself in front of a shooting star before I let it hit you.
With love, good-bye world.