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I sit here in a room filled only with future regrets and poor investments. My time is limitless and therefore invaluable. If there's any way you can help, please let me know. It was a mistake coming here. It was a mistake. Everyday I promise to write this wrong, to relieve others of their burden. I am a coward. Nothing has changed. If only someone would do the hard part for me. Pull the trigger, steer off road. But there's that laziness again. If I could ever get the job done I wouldn't be in this situation.
Somehow I've managed to hold down steady jobs. Something about a schedule keeps me in line. They don't work when I make them myself. I am a slave to my whims. My desires. My dopamine receptors. “Just a quick hit, just one drink”. My mantra. I find no peace with them or without them.
A supplementary role is all I'll ever play. Never destined for center stage, not even the ensemble. I sit there, faceless in the crowd, worrying and fretting about my own little conflicts and problems that the rest of the world would be more than happy to resolve with me or without me. I have a family. I have a wife and kids. In my dreams. We smile and hug each other. We hold hands. In my dreams. They won't text me back. Right now.
Why won't they text me back? Did I not perform well enough? Was my shucking and jiving not enough? Did they realize all of the imperfections in my face, the ones I refamiliarize myself with every morning? How could they have not noticed them before? Do they regret talking to me? Do they regret dropping a conversation half way through? Will they regret this missed connection in a year or two? Will I ever stop thinking about them?
No. They will join the ranks of men and women in my life who got their quick laughs from my desperate bids for some kind of human connection and promptly moved on to bigger and better things. I hope there is a heaven and that God pities me enough to grant me entrance because otherwise I have nothing to look forward to. I'm not religious but I pray to God every day. Every day millions suffering from debilitating disease pray for God to end their suffering and by lottery he does or does not. I must be low on his list of priorities. I must take matters into my own hands.
I want the attention. I want the affection. I want them to realize how much they love me and I want them to feel pain, guilt that they did not appreciate me enough in life, just as I do not appreciate them enough. What is the world going through that these thoughts would sprout in the mind of an average, middle-class whatami.
I don't know what I am. I don't know where I'm going and I don't know where I've been. I can't remember. For the life of me I can't remember. Photographs will never tell the whole story so I don't bother anymore. I will remain invisible, behind the lenses and electronics, my existence being only in relation to The Subject. You must remember that I was there. You must remember that I am here, too.
My friend is a skeleton and only I can remember him. I hope you remember him too.