The warm smell of pavement after rain, the deep fragrance of pot, and the moon-less sky. This was my dark walk to where I would be sleeping before typing this post. The words that follow will be completely ambiguous. I will not point out my own faults (I have enough people who do that for me) nor will I dive into a unnecessarily long rant. I will describe how I feel following said events.
I fail at every job. Spare me the “In order to learn or feel real success we must fail” speech. If that’s the case I am not learning and I sure as hell am not succeeding. If this is success it’s coming at the pace of water falling off a leaf into a bottle while I am dying of exhaustion and dehydration.
I identify with the underachievers more than the overachievers and not for the reasons you might think. There is a level of life you have not lived until you have lived from pay check to pay check; drank too much, danced under power lines in a thunder storm, and thought a job paying $10 an hour with no benefits was a pretty good payday. I would be lying to you if I said, even now, that I have achieved anything better than that.
I am 25 I don’t foresee my energy or intelligence level getting any better. This is my conundrum. You know how that makes me feel? Do you really wanna know how that makes me feel? Like a loser but free…I am free of a title, a commitment of clocking in, clocking out, free of having a boss’s ass to kiss, free of feeling like I have developed friendships with coworkers when really they just talk about how I don’t know how to load the receipt paper correctly, free to pack up and leave and head to a new town whenever I want. Underachieving is the best…except you’re a loser and every now and then between the glorious late nights with old friends from this town or that town, or your favorite episode of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, and writing articles that will get published but you won’t get paid for you are reminded, you’re a loser. I’m a loser.