12-28-14

My 25th birthday. Scary.

25.
Quarter-life?
Do most people live this much in 25 years?
Sure.
They may accomplish more in societies eyes; careers, marriages, babies, mortgages, 401ks, etc – all that bullshit needed to build a cookie-cutter blueprint around white picket fences.
Those people fit society like a glove.
What about the rest of us?
Never content with the idea that building and investing so far into one life could squander the dreams of another.
25.
Quarter-life?
This can’t only be a quarter.
Do you know what I have accomplished?
At some point you’ve got to stop learning lessons, right?
Assuming that the meaning of life is simply to learn all these lessons, makes me beg to differ.
We’ve still got plenty to learn, every day.
25…
Quarter-life..
Those people make me laugh.
25, in my eyes, seems like three-fucking-quarters. If not more.
Positive I won’t see the “mid-life” of 50.
Don’t really need to.
50.
Mid-life.
Can’t imagine how many of your peoples so-called “quarter-lives” bunched together 50 would be in my shoes.
Christ.
The thought alone is enough to cause a mild panic attack.
Whenever people speak on the future, they seem so excited.
They’re so ecstatic to encounter the unknown.
Holding onto the idea that the dark-unfamiliar-could-be-would-be-should-be is going to bring hope.
Something fantastic.
Something great.
Something that tops it all.
What if our best has already come though?
What if we’ve experienced the happiest moments we’re meant for?
What if that was it?
It could be all downhill from here.
Great things still may come.
They may still be written into your path.
Probably scattered.
You know, to force you to put the puzzle together.
To give life some sort of sick roller-coaster based balance.
Who knows.
If sayings are true (which, clearly, us romanticizing writer-types totally buy into), then when it rains, it indeed pours.
Shit piled on shit.
Issue after issue.
Tear by tear.
Fight to the next fight.
Anger turned to argument.
Argument turned to action.
Action turned to reaction.
When it rains, it pours.
How can it not be true?
I’ve watched some of the best people have the hardest of years, and for what reason?
Karmatically, they did not owe a penny.
They hadn’t wronged the innocent.
They hadn’t stolen a thing.
They had been honest.
They had been hard-working.
They needed a change.
Think we found the link.
One piece to bind all these seemingly normal, yet undeserved tragedies together back like glue.
Thinking about my worst years (’07,’09, ’12, ’13, and let’s be honest, some of ’14) it makes sense.
Of course, many of those years when tragedy struck, it was in result of my own behavior, or karma.
Those “bad years” full of unforeseen and soul-crushing tragedies are there for a reason.
They come around cause you need change.
You need to understand that there is a bigger picture to this whole life thing.
Sometimes it’s too easy to get caught up in the selfish ways of thinking.
It’s not always all about you.