When did life become one sad event after the other? I remember one day that I couldn't wait to be a grownup and to have some responsibilties and have people respect me, not because I was older, but because I would have more experience and knowledge of what I do better than most. I knew growing up wouldn't be a walk in the park, but I didn't expect it to change the way I feel about things entirely.
Things that were once fun now either seem mundane or pointless. Things that seemed innocent now reek of corruption. Love, which looked like could conquer all, now seems to be nothing but a cynical waste of time. I used to be carefree, not really worried about things or overthinking things much, but now I am a hardened, jaded, cynic who used to try hard to find good in people, but has given up because people often disappoint. This is a far cry from who I was, and, as much as I hate to admit it, I hate who I have become.
Putting the blame on one thing, no, even several things seems pointless in the end. I would say that work has made me lose my rose-shaded view of the world. Maybe picking up responsibilities at church has forced me to grow up and act more mature. School, while valuble, seems to know less everytime I visit.
Here is one thing I have never admitted. I didn't care for the speeches given at graduation. They were, to my view, elaborate lies. Carpe diem, sieze the day. You can go out there and be whatever you want to be. You have learned enough to go out into the world and make a living, or if you go off to college, get a nice career. Lies. All lies. You have to backstab and be a jerk to get anywhere in the world. That is how the world works. Hard work only allows people to take advantage of you, and in the end, you end up feeling like the stuffed animal you threw away.
Sometimes I think people look down on me. This could be for several reasons. Did you know I was voted "most studious" in my class? I was. Most studious. Now my nose wasn't always in a book, but I worked hard to earn what I did. You know what that translates to? People know. I studied, got high scores on my ACTs, garunteeing me admitance to most higher up colleges, if I could afford it. I have taken many IQ tests, and have scored, on average, "highly gifted". This, in the end, means nothing to most people. Here I am, probably hypothetically smarter than the average person, stuck in a job where people get their generic goods. A place where a lot of people who have left their dreams go. In short, by association of working there, no matter what the job, its grunt work. I have seen the faces of people, those I know and don't know, take pity. Have I become a cautionary tale? Is this what happens when someone doesn't have ambition?
I have worked hard to be where I am at now. I have done most things asked of me, showed up on time, haven't called in sick when I should have, just for the sake of having attendance. My recognition is nil. Not even a raise. It means nothing. Whether I show up or not almost doesn't seem to matter. Whether I am happy of sad, it doesn't seem to matter. I am just a headcount, a pleb. In the end, I am just there to be used. I accepted this long ago, but it hurts. I have untapped potential, and I am being squandered, repressed of my gifts.
Right now I am in a battle just to remain where I am happiest, but little by little it is being forced from me. I worry that I am just being cast aside. Am I not valued? Here I am, someone who can factorialize quadratic equations, a lot of time in my head, and I am being forced to a job that was more or less for the uninspired. It makes me feel weak. It makes me feel small.
People don't even take me seriously anymore. My rants are more or less a comedy routine. Sometimes they are a cry for unity, to overthrow the laws of ignorance. I am at a point where I think people want me to be miserable, that all they want to tell me is how they are depressed or sad. I thought humanity was supposed to be more positive than that. I thought in ignorance, obviously. The world doesn't work like that.
Perhaps I am just being melodramatic right now. Maybe its just horomones that are not properly aligning. Whatever it is, it feels empty, sad, and something that I at one time did not want to be a part of.
Some people believe that dreams come true. I had one. A long time ago. I was walking into an office. There were some cohorts around, and we would say 'hey', or 'hows it going'. It was nice. I would go to my desk, and begin my work, happily doing whatever it was I was good at. Then during our lunch, I would win some sort of award. It was always something different, but it made me happy. Then I would be helped and thanked for all my hard work. I would come home to a loving wife and a kid or two. I would help her out with dinner, and we would eat together as a family. This dream I had, it seemed normal. I wanted a normal life. Sure, things happen, but I wanted the American dream. I now know better.
Here is how it will probably go.
I, a headcount, will come in with a strict dress code, scan my card and begin my work. I hear typing, but no one talks, or at least around me they don't talk. After a drull meeting or two, we have lunch with little conversation about things outside work, then return to our meaningless lives, obtaining some goal that will never be reached. I will come home, my wife in tears as she found out that someone stole our food, and the kids coming home, saying 'hey', but never really talking. I sit in my chair, frustrated with worldly troubles, and become even more cynical and hardened. I have to mask it for the kids, though.
That is how it goes, or rather, how it will probably go.
I would probably hate myself more then than I do now.
Looking back, even if its just a year or so ago, laughing seems like a far cry from how I feel on a near continual basis. Reality has hit me hard and has taken me prisoner. I just feel helpless, alone, and abused. I think that no one really truly takes their time to understand just how things effect people. They just take me for granted. Would it matter if I just disappeared? Would it matter if I was happy or not? Did any of these things matter to begin with?
I am not even sure if I will ever be appreciated by anyone anymore. To many, I am just there. A headcount. A number. A thing. A speck. A blip. I am just there. Fullfilling a quota. A blemish on a payroll. A grunt. A punching bag. No, I am not just talking about work either.
Being praised by everyone is not what I ask for. I do not want mankind to lose their grasp of reality by idolizing someone as small as I. I don't want the attention of man as a whole. I just want appreciation and validation. It seems as if those are now dreams too. Dreams that will probably not be met.
There was one time I was told dreams would come true if you wished hard enough. At one time I believed it. I would look up at the stars, and though feeling insignificant, I would wish that my dream, no matter how mediocre, would come true. I would wish night after night after night. I just want a girlfriend. I want a better job. I want the world to be a happy place. I wouldn't wait for the first star, or a shooting one, or even Santa. I would just wish or pray when I could. It was a brighter time. It was a happier time.
When do these things happen? I wished for you, I prayed for you, I have been patient. I have endured harshly cold winters. I have waited through the stiffling hot summers. I have waited in the rain, and in the sun. I have been patient for that dream. I have went through heartache. I have surpassed joy. I have rushed through my youth to obtain the dream. I have done everything it asked me to. I have denied things, lost loved ones, friends, just so I could have the tiniest portion of that dream.
There is no one who thinks of me. I wait at the bridge. Hoping that over the hill, that she would appear. All the waiting and longing would be worth it just to hear her voice, just to feel her skin. Waiting, doing everything I can. Growing older. Soon, I won't even have that luxury.
Maybe now is the time to give up that dream, all of it. Maybe there isn't room for my dream. Maybe, it doesn't, and never will, exist. Dreams are fleeting, and are meant to fade away, just like lives and time. They are not meant to be caught or fulfilled. I now wish they didn't exist. They are nothing but a way for more time to flee away from our mortal coils. In the end, we are forced to wake up and accept that in the end, there is no goal to obtain. We live, only to die. Anything inbetween is collateral.
In the end, I have lost. There didn't seem to be a choice in the matter.