I fell head first onto the concrete. It was ugly, painful, and (lucky for my face) metaphorical. This educational fall determined how I'd live the next four years of my life - working a 9 to 5, slowly sinking into an existential abyss of my own making. Every time the alarm rang and I didn't feel like getting up, was a painful reminder I had failed at making it on my own. It was a tough pill to swallow. Barrels of coffee and the occasional energy drink I consumed helped me stay awake through the toughest of times, but there was nothing that could help with the growing frustration. There I was - trapped once again. I had to get away.
"You haven't changed a bit", I said. It wasn't a compliment. I'd been talking to the man sitting across from for the past hour. He was a childhood friend of mine and we hadn't seen each other in 10 years. During that time, he had stayed in the exact same position physically, mentally, career-wise. In every conceivable way, he was in a time capsule.
As a society, we are truly, madly, deeply in love. We glorify and idolize the object of our adoration with the vim and vigor of a Romeo, desperately longing for the affection of his Juliet. And like in the Shakespearian tragedy, this affair does not end well. But it's high time we finally admitted it to ourselves - this is a toxic relationship and we need to end it. While it may feel good in the moment, it's doing more harm than good in the long run. I'm talking, of course, about our obsession with "overnight success".
I've been thinking about this moment for a week. The moment I finally sit down and words begin to appear on the canvas in front of me. Few things are more intimidating to a writer than looking at a blank page.
There used to be a cute little cafe in my town. They had the best coffee selection for miles. Not to mention the place was very tastefully decorated and had a welcoming atmosphere. The only problem? It was on the other end of town. Since I don't have a car and I rarely use public transport, I had to walk for 40 minutes to get there.
My mouth was full of blood. I could feel its warm, metallic taste as my tongue was swimming in the red liquid like it was an Olympic event. "What the hell did I get myself into?", I thought to myself.