Be warned dear readers - this is a long one...
Let me start off by saying I hate my life. Please note that I don't hate the fact that I'm alive and want to kill myself over it, rather I hate the state of my life. I hate what it's become. I hate what I've let it become. And it's all my fault. It's my decisions that got me here and I have no one else to blame.
I had the opportunity to go to college, when life was simpler and I had no worries. I had the opportunity to really make something of myself. I held that opportunity in my hands like a fragile porcelain doll, and with a string of poorly thought out choices, threw it to the ground where it shattered into a million pieces.
While the majority of the people I graduated high school with were away at college preparing for the real world, I was hanging out at friend's houses smoking weed and getting drunk. To feed these habits, I worked the night shift at the Amoco (Now BP - what a screwjob) station my Dad's friend owns, sitting around and bullshitting with every societal reject you can imagine, from a kid who was in constant trouble with the police to a drunkard who came in New Year's Eve and insisted he would be safe, because with a snap of his fingers, he was invisible.
When I should have been starting my sophomore year of college, I went to work for the school district that I had tried so hard to get away from. The job was awesome. That first year I worked with kids that had emotional problems. My heart went out to them and some nights I cried about the lives they were forced to live, with parents who either weren't there or didn't give a shit. But, these kids could still laugh and be kids and I think it was their innocence that allowed them to do so. It was that innocence that I was drawn to... life was beginning to get complicated and it was refreshing to see a child whose biggest concern was homework and remember what it was like.
During this time, I continued to party and drift though life, not realizing (or not wanting to realize) that I would have to change at some point in time. I was hanging around with people I called friends who in retrospect took more than they gave. I was in a relationship with someone I thought I loved. And I suppose I did.
That summer, my Dad died. He had a massive heart attack while he was at work and was down, not breathing for ten minutes, before the paramedics got there. No one there, to my knowledge, attempted to assist him in any way, except his asshole boss who made it a point to punch him out so he wouldn't be paid for dying on the floor. I lived for three days in hospitals, three needless days praying to god for a miracle. But it was over. It was over when the paramedics transported him to the hospital.
I remember getting the phone call. I remember freaking out because my Mom was on her way back from Springfield with my sister and I couldn't get a hold of her. I remember calling my brother's wife to have her call him at work. I remember calling Chris, because I couldn't remember anyone else's phone number. I remember my Dad being transported to Lutheran General by a Flight For Life helicopter and the compassion in the pilot's eye's when she told me they'd take good care of him. I remember speaking at the funeral service, but I don't remember what I said.
Most of all, I remember the last time I saw my Dad alive. He was sitting on the couch, doing a crossword puzzle. I almost asked him if he wanted to go out for coffee, but he looked so at ease and relaxed I decided not to. Now I would sell my soul for that cup of coffee.
This chain of events led to the disappearance of religion from my life. After the funeral, there was a lunch type thing at the church or something, I can't remember. I remember having to get out of there. And I remember the woman stopping me at the door, telling me about how easy it was to come back through that door into the land of god, where everything is milk and honey. Between my unanswered prayers and that woman, I decided god and the whole idea of religion could go fuck their collective selves.
The rest of the summer was equally eventful. I cheated on my girlfriend. And then I got back together with her. My Mom took out a lot of aggression on me. I felt like shit. My Mom and brother plotted to send me to Springfield. I smoked more weed. I drank more beer. I continued to drift.
When I should have been starting my junior year of college, I was starting off in a new school, in a new program. This year I was working with behavior disorder kids. These are the kids who get pissed off and flip desks over if they don't like how things are going. This year was better than the one before. The school was incredible, the teacher I worked with was cool (still is) and a hottie, and I felt like I belonged. Some people told me I should go to school and be a teacher. I thought about it, but decided I liked to party more.
Somewhere during this time period, I cheated on my girlfriend again. This is where I started to realize that she wasn't as great as I thought. This is also where she started to run up my credit cards, bitching and moaning about wanting things. And of course, she couldn't get a job. I drifted through this year, and when I should have been starting my senior year of college, settled in for another year of working with kids.
During this time, the girlfriend helped increased my debt load (thanks doll), and I got more and more fed up with it. We fought a lot about stupid things which were just a cover up for the bigger problems. Like a fucking retard I bought her a ring and we talked about how magnificent and glorious the wedding would be. She did anyway. I just nodded and said 'uh huh'. Shockingly enough though, during this time I took a couple of college classes. Yup. A whole two classes. Wow.
When I should have had a degree in hand and been out looking for a job, I was without a degree and waiting for a computer technician job to open up in the district. I interviewed for a job in Skokie that paid $38K starting. I turned down the follow up interview when I found out I had a good chance of getting the job where I was already working. I turned down $11k to be close to home because of my shitty, getting ready to die car. If I could only change things in the past...
With my first paycheck from the new job, I went out and bought a motorcycle. It wasn't my Harley, but it was a bike and I could hopefully sell it in a couple of years and get my Harley. The bike is still sitting in my garage and I haven't ridden it since last summer (Summer of '02). It's never been truly broken in and has 165 miles on the odometer.
I went through that fall, getting a handle on the new job and falling into a routine. This routine included several fights with the now-fiancee. The most memorable ones were the ones where I wouldn't give her any dick. She was in college full time and living off of me since she couldn't get a part-time job or her grades would fall (even without a job to weigh her down, she managed to fail a music class). I had had enough of that shit. In January, I dumped her fat ass. And immediately felt happier. A week after I dumped her, she was already going out with four guys to go 'bowling' (more like cock-gobbling). Her parents bought her a brand new car (which she totaled in Chicago about six months later).
She tried to get me to take her back. And she sank as low as she could by using pregnancy as her weapon of choice. It was going well until I made her take a test which came up negative. I didn't look back. If I had, the emotional pain I was in would probably have caused me to go nuts. I had a failed fling with a girl named Bea. I would eventually go through it a total of three times before I said enough is enough.
I hooked up with Jessie and if you want the story on that you can go here for the story. To sum it up, we're not together, she's pregnant, and I'm still drifting. Which I guess is the point behind all this. I've spent all my 'adult life' drifting. Every opportunity that's handed to me, I piss it away. My life is fucked up and I am the only one I have to blame.
I'm twenty-five years old, I live with my mother, I work in a dead-end job where I have no hope of advancement, my skills are in low demand so I can't find a better job, I can't afford to go back to school and even if I could I don't know if I would have the energy to, and in five months I'm going to be a father. In five months, I'm going to be responsible for the life of another human being and I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
You see, I have spent some of the most formative years of my life just drifting. I have drifted from one scene to another, from one woman to another, from one mindset to another. That's all I have done is drift, and piss away my life. And now, when I really need to be prepared for real life, I'm stuck running in the red, trying to play catch up. And I don't know if I can.
I've wasted some of the most important years of my life on people who only wanted me around for either entertainment purposes or because I could give them something. I've wasted time, energy, and money on people and things that were not deserving.
These are my wasted years. And my wasted years are my life.
There's a game life plays
Makes you think you're everything they ever said you were
Like to take some time
Clear away everything I planned
Was it life I betrayed
For the shape that I'm in
It's not hard to fail
It's not easy to win
Did I drink too much
Could I disappear
And there's nothing that's left but wasted years
There's nothing left but wasted years
If I could change my life
Be a simple kind of man
Try to do the best I can
If I could see the signs
I'd derail every path I could
Now I'm about to die
Won't you clear away from me
Give me strength to fly away
Was it life I betrayed
For the shape that I'm in
It's not hard to fail
It's not easy to win
Did I drink too much
Could I disappear
And there's nothing that's left but wasted years
There's nothing left but wasted years
"Wasted Years" - Cold