Humble Journeys

What’s the half-life of a Quarterlife crisis? Halfway between alive and complacent maybe. When you still have half a soul to sell for the very least of the things you’ve always been told you wanted. When you’re convinced it is because you’re too tired to go on wondering. When it’s a couple years more to thirty or when affluenza sounds appealing. When you start using the word charming… to describe furniture. When you start using the word charming. When you stop wondering when it ends or about anything. When you want to ascend the social ladder and raise sheltered children with soft hands, children you can’t relate to because they’ve been sheltered and spoiled and don’t eat sugar or anything with a mother or a face. Or perhaps you were one of those kids and then maybe it’s when you want to reproduce the conditions of your existence and those of your social class in perpetuity. When you start talking about enjoying your commute. When you miss the city or maybe when you miss the country. Maybe it never ends and you just stop thinking about it until you’re nearly 50 and take scuba lessons and skydive or buy a single engine plane to try to take your mind off the fact that you’re one foot in the grave and your 32 inch waist has been replaced by some number more befitting someone of your age. When drugs lose all their appeal, when your smoking habit has become burdensome and when you say “I should really quit” you’re thinking about dying and pain or suffering and not about how much your appetite would increase. You wonder when you’ll be totally gray, but not out of pure vanity but curiosity because you actually don’t give a fuck anymore. Maybe it’ll be too soon for you to respect yourself anymore and by then it’ll be too late for you to care anymore but at least, at the very fucking least you’ve always thought about how good you’d look on a Harley and you enjoy your commute.”..Anim.

I wish this song played wherever I went.

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