This is something I made using Windows Movie Maker and MS Paint when I was supposed to be doing homework.
As the year begins to unwind and the days grow short and dark, I find myself unable to summon motivation to perform the simplest of tasks – even if these tasks are essential to my survival.
I think this is a pretty relatable feeling for all of us who have no one to take care of but ourselves. If parents get this way, they go to jail.
As the sole guardian and caregiver of myself, I have to admit, I am quite negligent. If I could fire myself, I wouldn’t, because that would mean I’m being paid just to stay alive. That would be awesome. However, I would give myself a stern talk about my future employment, which I often do anyway.
If I spend too long thinking about the future – even twenty-minutes-from-now-future – I feel like I’m falling into a void. The future is full of possibilities, but most possibilities are pretty unappealing.
Even if I, by some miracle, manage to rise above the ever-growing pool of mediocrity and rise to a grand realm of aesthetic and emotional success, you could still die alone and forgotten. It happens all the fucking time. Just try to think of all the formally successful people who died alone and forgotten. Can’t think of one?
THAT’S BECAUSE YOU FORGOT THEM!
This morning I awoke to discover my environment had been murdered by icy white particles from the sky.
I’m safe in my room, curled beneath a heavy blanket, holding a cup of instant coffee. I huddle close to my overheating laptop like it’s some futuristic fire. There is a certain serenity in the snow outside my window.
Back in middle school, when it snowed, kids would still wear shorts. Their legs never seemed cold. I shivered beneath three layers.
In high school, I drove to school on icy roads that made my wheels spin. The icy roads stretched out towards infinity, with sidegaurds so small you wonder why they even put them up. People slid off the road all the time. It was so easy to do.
It was the day I was to be confirmed into the Catholic Church. The roads were pure slick and my mother was scared. We had an old green van with worn-in tires and two-wheel drive.
I was stuffed into this ugly brown-yellow suit all boys are forced to wear to at some point in the lives. I was sick with either pneumonia or strep. All I remember was I felt like death and my lungs hurt and my face was hot. And that I really, really wanted to be confirmed.
The road grew worse as the world grew darker. My mother’s voice was terrified. I took out my rosary and began to pray, silently. I knew that if God were to choose a moment in my life to actually listen, it had to be this one.
I understood why he’d ignore a prayer for me to be thin, or for me to have friends, or for somehow one to lead into the other.
God had his reasons.
But this was different. This was about him. This was about entering his church. If there was one moment in my life where’d he choice to intervene, it should be this one.
When my mother lost control of the vehicle, everything slowed down. God made sure I saw every instant between the road and the ditch, and made sure there was nothing I could do to stop it. But I didn’t stop praying.
It wasn’t the last time I’d prayed, or even the last time I’d prayed and believed someone was listening.
But it was the last time I prayed and believed anyone cared.
I never made it to my confirmation.
When Facebook first became accessible to me, it was my favorite thing in the world. I could talk to my friends, play fun-stupid games, and posts pictures of myself looking cool. It was a little shrine dedicated to the center of my universe – Myself.
Unfortunately, like all places of worship, as Facebook grew in popularity so did its message become diluted. The joys of connecting through mutual self-worship were lost under a wash of political capitalization. People stopped posting about their lives and thoughts and started posting links to banal sponsorships and teutonic memeary. I received friend requests from people in countries I’d never even heard of, who immediately invited me to an event I’d never be able to attend. If they were really my friends, they would know I don’t have the time or means to attend their one-man charity show to stop Kony2012.
The beauty of simple narcissism had been taken over by a desire to acquire political currency.
The fastest way to disengage me from your religious views is to mix them in with politics, an occurrence all too common on my quickly disintegrating Facebook.
When I looked at my Facebook this is now what I saw: a place less about self-expression and more about self-aggrandizement. The Gods of Us had become tools to push product. We’d sold ourselves into a plantation where we were both slave and slavedriver. So, like every other god I’d once loved, I decided to abandon Myself.