Friday, December 31, 2010


It’s strange how a mere hour’s drive to work can make you feel detached from the rest of the world.

Reading the Facebook statuses and posts of people I used to regularly spend time with makes me feel like an abandoned child standing outside his former home. Looking through the window at the people I used to call family, watching them laugh and enjoy each other’s company, I can’t help but shed a tear. The warm orange hue the lamps give off, compared to the dark night I'm standing in, make it all that more tempting to walk through the front door. But I can’t. That door stays shut with the deadbolt of a large paycheck and no option otherwise.

That is the trade-off I am faced to endure. I gave up nightly adventures of spending time with my good friends for the ability to afford my life. To make sense of everything, I want to blame someone or something for the bitterness I feel. Bitterness caused by watching all of my friends make plans and have fun without me, only I have no scapegoat to give me that satisfaction.

Nevermind, I found one.

It isn’t their fault. Why should they bother to try and invite me if I'm only available one night out of every seven? They're simply following common sense. I can’t blame myself. I had no choice, I need the money. The location of my work… another no. The distance of my job cannot be helped, it is one small rotating gear of a machine that is way too large for me to control, the company I work for. While I do come home every night, I am still forced to be responsible and stay there, for the fact that I work long hours. The length of my work days are another small moving part in that grand machine which will keep going whether or not I want it to.

I sit here at my desk, doing nothing but reading and turning the occasional thought into a Word document. Yet I'm powerless to take this glorious amount of wasted time and transfer it to my once thriving social life. It almost feels like some strange nightmare of dissatisfaction that would immediately depress me once I woke up. The problem is, I'm already awake.

The single ray of hope I have is the possibility that it won’t last forever. After this quick pit stop, my life will gain momentum again. Having made certain steps and exhausting every option thus far, the only thing I can do now is be right in the same spot I have been, converting oxygen into carbon dioxide and wait for my plans to pan out.

I have to stay focused. Optimistic. Resilient. If I don’t, then I'm afraid I'll succumb to the depression that would be trailing right behind the idea of having a secluded, boring existence. Others may not have the same feeling, but to me, that’s the ultimate sin: Doing nothing great with this life I've been given. I've never been able to tolerate leading a dull, mediocre life. I do realize that’s exactly what I'm doing right now, but you should understand that I don't plan on it being like this for much longer.

So I can promise you this: Something will happen. If life is stubborn and doesn’t hand me the chance in the name of karma, I will twist life’s arm behind its back and force it to. I may not advertise it, but I've always had the ability to manipulate many of the things around me as I see fit, and I will keep doing so until I'm content with the result.

What I ask of you is simple: Don't forget about me. I may not be sitting next to you, but I’m still here, waiting patiently. For now.

Like a goddamn lion, ready to pounce your face off.

Now that you know more about me, learn about the things around me:
Rusted Bolt
Voice of Others