Are you ever struck by the idea that you have nothing whatsoever to contribute to society?
That there is no spark in your mind nor fire in your soul, nothing your hands can do that a million other hands cannot, that your very chromosomes are so bland and generic as to be not worth passing on?
Oh. Well I do.
I mean look at me. I'm 21. In human years, that's prime life right there. That's living time. People my age are supposed to be grabbing the torch, by force if necessary, from the previous generation, dreaming up big beautiful dreams and planting them in fertile American soil and climbing up to the top of their big beautiful dream tree so that everyone will see and hear and the world will be changed.
So what do I have to show for myself?
A cabinet full of video games, many of them un-played. A room full of fake oriental knick-knacks I don't own or want. So many extra pounds on my fat ass I might as well be genderless.
I have some nice grades to my name. That's nice. Grades earned among recovering gang members and recovering teen moms and recovering soldiers and recovering housewives and recovering drop-outs and recovering farm workers and recovering battered women. Almost everyone in my classes is running from or resting from something traumatic. The rest were too goddamn lazy and entitled to do anything worth anything that might risk trauma. It's like a little incubator room from adulthood. I'm sure I fall squarely in the latter group. My point is, my grades don't mean much at all.
My point is, I'm a goddamn English major who {that(who)} can't write. Except vox posts. Which isn't writing. It's narcissism. My point is my head is full of useless facts and theories and but not the aptitude enough to apply any of them to anything. My point is, "I speak for all mediocrities in the world. I am their champion. I am their patron saint."
See that shit right there? That was angst, son. Of the C+ variety.
I have lived in this town for thirteen of my twenty-one years. An easy majority. I am afraid that I am going to stay here, develop alcoholism here, spit out fat little babies here. I am beyond afraid that I am going to die here.
What if you planted your dream seed and you got a potato instead of a tree?
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