April 15, 2003 | 3:16 PM Central Time
Comfortably numb

�You are the only one who can change the way you live your life, so take the initiative.�

I hate it when I open my Inbox, to find little nuggets of joy, solicited to no one in particular, attached to a brilliant sale, a burgeoning campaign, a miracle product. Because in cases like this, the subject line forces me to think not about the product, but about the meaning behind it.

But if I listened to my Inbox every time it tried to convince me of something, I�d own thousands of webcams, donated my car to save thousands of starving children in Sudan, and I�d find out what college girls REALLY do behind closed doors. And these just aren�t things I can do right now.

Going on a new subject...

I�ve always dealt with that feeling of not fitting in very well with surprising ease. I am who I am, and rarely has anyone asked me to be anything different. Still, it becomes more and more frequent to hear, �Maybe you should take some time off� You deserve a break� You really need to just get trashed� Try getting laid� Take a vacation�� These things are not me. I don�t take breaks, I don�t get trashed, vacations leave me feeling foreign, lost for time. But that is what people are about, in this time, in this place.

It�s like the whole city has a bad hangover that it doesn�t want to cure.

Even old friends of mine, people I trusted, who cared about me, had nothing in common with who I am. They grew up out of town, or in the city, started smoking at 13, having sex at 14, going to clubs and getting drunk at 18. These were not even options where I came from. Even if they were, I wouldn�t have taken them. When it was there, I ran the other way.

This city is about two things � getting drunk, and hooking up. And I make no judgement on people who choose that path, but I start to wonder when I became the one on the outside, because I chose something different. Because I choose something different, everyday. There are no laws, no restrictions. People have constant, daily dependencies on drugs, have sex without consequence, use alcohol as an escape. And there�s a piece of me that wishes it were that easy for me, that I could fall into that world and not look back. But it is a big leap to make, and one that I would probably not climb out of.

So I sit silently, alone, watching them indiscriminately destroy themselves, from the inside out. Taking shots, sucking down vodka, screwing like animals, and I begin to wonder what kind of impact it will have. And then� I wait. And wait. And wait. And there is no impact. There are no consequences. These things fulfill them, they keep the pattern going, life continues. Each day is another chance to get plowed in a bar and screw a stranger.

I used to have this moral high ground, where I would think that what I did was better. That somehow, the choices I make now, to avoid everything though it slaps me in the face, would benefit me someday. I�ve been waiting a long time. But my resolve is slipping. Not that I could ever turn into someone that lived this way, but simply, one that couldn�t respond. Because they drink, sleep into the afternoon, never pick up a book, and still smile and laugh. They are the ones that have family money, and everything falls into their laps.

And I am the one sitting alone at the lunch table.

before | after

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Goodbye... and EFF YOU! - January 14, 2004
This... sucks. - November 30, 2003
High on Life... and hyper as hell. - November 28, 2003
Happy Thanksgiving, not so happy. - November 27, 2003... Thanksgiving Day
100 exciting things about me... hehe,.. not. - November 25, 2003