I wrote something depressing the other day. Just a few sentences that crossed my mind, then my fingertips, and froze me for a good 20 minutes as I just read and reread and rereread what I had written.
“You know when you are looking through some old boxes and you find a old photo of yourself smiling innocently at time when you had really tapped into something good, and you can see in that 10-years-ago smile that there wasn't anything coming down the pike at you to be afraid of for at least 10 years or so and now that you're there, you notice that you don't smile like that anymore.”
Not a suicide note or anything, but clearly depressing. It’s the truth in that photo’s ‘then-and-now’ contrast that has thrown doubt into the validity of the standard guidance councilor question, “what do you want to be when you grow up?” What the hell did I want to do with my life while I was smiling away like that? Smiling like I didn’t know a damn thing. I wasn’t thinking about taxes, about a job, about the rent or the bills. I was in the here and now right then and there. Think about it. A good day for me used to be getting as many laughs as I could. Now, to get a good laugh, I tell stories about the days when I used to have days that made me laugh. What I’m trying to say is, life isn’t as funny as it used to be.