As I was getting ready, just needed my tie, I came to an understanding about our lives, about life itself.
Life, what a joke. For as long as one can remember, and for most people, life is full of opportunities; or at least is what we love to think while we are young. How foolish we were, not knowing what life real would bring, the unforgiving reality of maturity and adulthood, the sad realization that although dreams can come true, nightmares are dreams too. And no nightmare is more terrifying than a boring, dull, unhappy existence.
People often enjoy horror stories, for they long for a little fright, a little feeling of uncertainty, some quick escape from reality, and all that for cheap entertainment. When in actuality, they just need to see the world around them to understand what true fear is.
Look around, remember your childhood friends, neighbours, teachers, classmates. How are they doing now? How are their lives going? Are they happy? Did the dreams come true? Or were the nightmares? How many are trapped in meaningless jobs, working for menial paychecks, trying to acquire useless goods to impress people they don’t like? Are they loved by the person they choose to spend their life with, or are they in a loveless relationship staying together for the conformity of not being alone? How many are living lies?
I see it all the time. Everywhere I go, there’s something, someone suffering without know it, going by believing life is good, fair. Ignorance is bliss I guess.
But I also see those who realize what I have: the unforgiving and cruelest dream that is reality.
That kid in middle school that dreamt with being an astronaut, whose days were filled with joy in the playground, running and laughing, longing for the day she could walk on the surface of the moon, like her hero Neil Armstrong. That kid with the cutest smile, that kid bringing joy to her friends and acquaintances alike. That kid grew to be bullied in middle school just because she dared to dream. “Girls can’t be astronauts, they can’t fly” other kids used to tell her. Every single day, hearing hurtful words, being discouraged, being made fun of. Without knowing, poor Amanda let go of her dreams and decided to dwell in the sweet embrace of drugs, just to escape from the harsh reality. Slowly but steadily losing herself, trying the live what was left of her dream through chemicals that offer a different reality. She lost herself and never came back.
Life indeed is a joke. As Andrew would learn, being a successful comedian is not the same as being a funny kid in school. It’s just not. You will just end up broke, telling the same old story in bars, from town to town, drowning your paychecks in the bottle. He could have figured that wasting those bucks will be detrimental to his career, but maybe is a decent price to pay to forget the situation.
Maybe like the guy that worked his ass off, not being the smartest or brightest, not particularly athletic but not weak either, but with just enough little determination to get by, daydreaming when opportunity arise but grounded enough to know he could actually achieve something if he never forget to work hard enough. Struggling but keep going until the day he became an engineer, until he got married. Just to end up resented by the wife, who would nag him for not making enough money to provide luxuries, for not taking her on expensive vacations, not having a big family as hers, not spending every single second on her needs; something that would led to be cheated on, made fun of, being despised by the one he thought would love him for who he was instead of what he could provide. Just to end up working in a call center, answering calls from ignorant people, rude customers, pricks, demanding assholes. Karens as one would say. Day after day, week after week, year after year, clocking in in the morning to answer hundreds of calls speaking the same script over and over until it’s burned in his mind until the words came out mechanically, taking messages with complains just as absurd as the stories told on the other side of the line, clocking out to return home by the afternoon. Draining one’s will to live little by little, until only a dull existence is left.
With any aspirations killed, dreams not dreamt any longer, and a routine rooted in this reality, what’s left but to accept the fact that we are dead inside? That there’s no escape, and we will see it everyday everywhere we look. News, radio, internet. Filled with disasters and disgraces, how can we keep going? Just wake up, go to your unfulfilling job, leave work, buy groceries, lose yourself to meaningless Entertainment, go to sleep, wake up and repeat.
As I continue to get ready, the intrusive thoughts fill my head, weighing on me as I desperately try to focus on my task at hand, to not waste any more time. But alas, the sad reality of our current times keeps overflowing within, filling the void with negativity, unrelenting and non stopping. At this point I can’t decide whether emptiness inside is better or not. Maybe feeling depressed all the time is better instead of not feeling at all. Who knows.
“Randall are you ready?” I could hear downstairs.
“In a minute” I responded.
I just need to tie this tie tightly. The last tie I’ll ever wear and it must look good for the pictures. Although I have never been narcissistic, I guess people would like or need to clearly see me. Just my guess.
As i gazed upon the mirror to see myself I remembered the stories told by H. P. Lovecraft and his cosmic horror. The horror of the incomprehensible and the unknown which could drive us mad for sure if it were real. But then again, the horror of life makes us long for madness, that sweet escape from our existence that in a sense, reality is much more terrifying than any fictional dread.
Or maybe the pills will be more effective.
