ELECTRIC DREAM MACHINE

(This entry is by a friend of mine who wanted their identity to remain a secret.)

I have this urge.  I’ve had it my entire life.  This is urge is to do as little as possible.  I am a minimalist, unmotivated, a waste.  It’s sad, I can’t push myself to do things because I would so much rather be in bed doing nothing.  I don’t struggle in school, but I struggle with myself.  In fact, I know I could be a straight A student, if I could only focus myself.  I would rather distract myself with the Internet, sleep, and meeting people.  I can give the argument that what I’m learning will have no relevance later, but it does have relevance now.  I need it to get into grad school and do something with my life.  I have this weird feeling that no matter what I do, no matter how far I go, I will always think I did too much.

      Some people become fuck-ups because of drugs or alcohol.  This didn’t happen to me.  Sure, I indulged several times in alcohol and Marijuana, but society has scared me so much about becoming an addict, that I cannot find any form of intoxication enjoyable.  Besides, I don’t have the energy to become a drug addict or alcoholic.  I could love weed, but I hate the weed culture and people who sell it so much that nothing is worth dealing with them.  And in terms of alcohol, I always feel like a hillbilly when I get drunk.  That combined with my fear or alcoholism and liver failure makes drinking not worth it.  All other drugs scare me/are too expensive.

      So was it that instilled this desire to do nothing in me?  Was it my parents?  I strive to be nothing like my parents, and if you look at me on the surface, you’d think I had succeeded.  I don’t have the temper of my father.  I am far too cynical to be compared to my mother.  I don’t dress like them.  I eat different food as they eat.  Beneath the surface you will see that this urge for nothingness comes from them.  My mother sits, reading detective novels, waiting for death.  My father sits, watching professional wrestling, eating cashews, waiting to die.  In fact, their lifestyle of immobility, and surrender are about as close to death a living person can be.  If they made coffins with book lights or built in televisions, my parents might be content with being buried now.

      Then you come to me.  I sit around fingers clanking on the keyboard of my laptop, bullshitting.  It is a struggle for me to get out of bed and go to class, or eat breakfast.  I am just like them.  I am aware of it.  I hate it.  But I feel incapable of changing it.  It is so much easier to lie in bed all day, than to not lay in bed all day.  I find myself happier with dealing with myself than having to deal with other people.   So what am I going to do?    My girlfriend’s mother recently told me that we were put here to change the world, to improve it in someway.  I got so excited.  “I’m going to change the world,” I thought.  I fantasized about being elected senator or president.  I could do it.  A week later, I am ready to do nothing.  I am no longer here to change the world.  I am here to grow old and die, and not bother people along the way.  I got here because I spent the past week realizing that I lack the talents and will power to change the world.  I’m plenty smart, but I am terrible with working with other people, goodbye politics.  I can usually memorize things pretty well, but nothing science, especially Biology, related.  Goodbye being a doctor.  I considered becoming a lawyer, but then I had a few thoughts.  What if I defend someone who is guilty and they get off?  What if I prosecute someone who is innocent and they go to jail?  What if someone loses their children or house because of me?  It’s just too much pressure.  I could become a teacher!  But then I’d have to spend the rest of my life in school, which is something I refuse to do.  So what is left?  Nothing.