I think that one of my favorite quotes in Mass Effect 3 comes from Garrus after the mission to Grissom Academy. He points out that most good parents will raise kids telling them that the universe is a good place, with some rough spots here and there, but good overall. They will grow up believing that things work out for the best, and things will be okay. But then you have them face an ugly reality that burns this illusion to the ground. What do they do? It honestly doesn’t surprise me that most of my generation who is grown up is taking some kind of anti-depressant or mood-stabilizer. We are raised to believe that the whole world is in front of us, but the truth isn’t nearly as pretty.
Time is a companion. You may wish it to move slower or wish it to stop altogether, but it is always with you as you go through life. It will remind you of the good times, but it will also remind you of the bad ones. It will show you the pain, but show you good things, when they happen. It is non-judgmental, doesn’t take sides and does its duty. It is the keeper of the world.
For me, time is the keeper of my prison. The constant reminder of how little is happening in my life. The companion who tells me what so many others have, and I don’t. A girl I used to run with posts on Facebook that she is in a relationship. It is with a guy that she was running with before me. I have no ill-will toward that. Not at all. Given how little happiness there is to be found in this world, I am always glad that people can find something to make the long nights easier. But that’s how it is with everyone. Everyone is in love, everyone is getting what they want. Everyone is happy. But not me.
More time passes by, the more posts I see about friends getting into relationships. It must come so easily to most. I keep hearing about how love is so hard, but from where I am sitting, it doesn’t seem to be hard for most of the people I know. They are in and out of relationships like it is nothing. Sure, they hurt for a bit, but only after it ends. For me, love was a fuck-ton of work that, in hindsight, wasn’t worth my time. And yet, that is how it is.
A friend of mine told me that a former friend of mine is going to be running for a seat of government here in Anchorage. Some city council or something. I wasn’t listening that intently. I tend to tune out sometimes. I was thinking about the former friend. His wife and I used to be incredibly close. But, when her husband stopped liking me, she stopped liking me. Monkey-see, monkey-do. For me, I see time doing so many things for people.
They all seem to have direction. I’m lucky if I can figure out what I am going to have for breakfast. I know what my immediate obligations are, but five years down the road, ten years down the road, I don’t have a fucking clue. What am I lacking? It might be passion.
As I have become more and more walled-off from the world, I find my ability to feel anything is waning. To avoid getting hurt, I just don’t care. Sure, the next neat story that I see gets my attention. I care about the superficial. But what do I have to care about beyond that? With my head injury, the family connections are gone. They never did come back. I kept hoping that they would, with time. But they never did. So, there are no family connections, even though the family tries their damndest. I don’t begrudge them that. It’s in their nature to be that way. With no romance and no interest in romance, along with the residual resentment of being used and betrayed by love, I no longer feel anything for that. With friends all going off in their own directions, leaving me behind (and given that I, a titan of a man, am quite forgettable), I no longer am feeling much for that. With nothing to care about, I have been going out of my way to not care. Easier, really. But maybe that is what it is.
Passion just doesn’t exist in my life. For anything. Ever. And time is still the ever-present companion through all of it. It follows me down life’s pathways, never letting me go. The people who work at the coffee-shop at my job joke that they never see me smile. They are on a mission to get me to do so. I do feel for their position. I am being as cold as humanly possible, without meaning to hurt anybody. I just don’t want to hurt anymore.
Time is the keeper of my prison. A girl that I was in kind of an odd position with told me that if I wanted something bad enough, I would find a way to get it. Yeah, because money isn’t tight and I don’t have obligations, right? If I could, I would pack up my shit right now and get out of this state. I would go somewhere far away and find a place to call my own. Pity that Seattle is so expensive to live in. Rain and wind constantly, it is my kind of place. Plus, no more winter.
Winters are brutal to me. With no one to curl up with and to take the ugliness of the nights away, I am always at my loneliest in winter. I want to go to a place where winter doesn’t follow. Seattle would do nicely. But again, expensive to live there. And the job market sucks there. I’m a journalism major. I follow these things. Had a friend suggest that her and I buy a run-down motel in Squaw Valley, California, and fix it up. It wouldn’t be hard. It is along a tourist route, and gets heavy business accordingly. Fix it up and it would be a regular cash-cow. Alas, she hasn’t brought that plan up again. A small hope, never to be.
Time is the keeper of my prison. The keeper of this stagnation. The constant reminder of how everyone is going places and I’m not. I hate living, but death sounds even more boring. Boredom, more than anything else, keeps me here. But this stagnation is killing me. The same job, the same people, the same place, the same world, and nowhere to go.
Time is a real piece of shit.
Until next time (pun intended), a quote,
“I like to expect the worst. There’s a small chance I’ll be pleasantly surprised.” -Garrus Vakarian, Mass Effect 2