The Value of a Life

This year a bunch of my friends turn or have turned thirty. Not one of them is happy about it. I still have a few more years before I have to stare that monster in the face, but with all of them having a “pre-life” crisis (with people living to be 80 or 90, you can’t be having a mid-life crisis at 30 anymore) even I start to look at my life and evaluate what I’ve managed to do with it, so far.

I have friends with high aspirations who are dissatisfied with how far they’ve come in life, even though I look at everything they’ve done and gawk with uncontrolled amazement. I have friends with no aspirations who are just wallowing in their own misery, with no one to really blame but themselves. I have friends in complete ruin, friends building families, friends with too many goals, friends getting Masters degrees and second degrees, friends on drugs, friends in jail, friends who recovered, friends who relapsed, friends with nothing to show for almost 30 years of living except a lot of good stories and a criminal record… I have friends full of lives lived and potential still brimming, even if they can’t see either of those things themselves. At some point, roughly every ten years starting at age 30 it seems, everyone evaluates where they are versus where they wanted to be. I would wager that more often than not people feel like they are somehow falling short.

It’s a weird phenomenon, really. Seems that no matter how successful I gauge a person to be, they feel as though they are wanting in some aspect. There’s a lot of self-loathing going on in the first world.


I don’t know if the problem is generational, or if Millennials are just more vocal about it. I know that my mom has been depressed for like 90% of her life, but Boomers and Gen-Xers, seem to have an ability to push that feeling down so far into themselves that it will probably give them cancer.Millennials, on the other hand, seem to be very vocal about how they feel. You can do a quick search on Tumblr and find a ridiculous number of posts about feeling depressed and lost and confused with life, and especially adulthood. We complain openly, and we all relate to the feelings of insufficiency and incompleteness. Personally, while it might make us sound kinda emo, I like the fact that we say what we feel. We’re a generation being held together by a common feeling of, I could prolly kill myself… not sure anyone would notice.

I feel this way roughly three times a week. Yep. I think about dying THAT OFTEN. Why? I dunno. Just do. Life is meaningless, so I don’t really value it that much. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want cancer. Cancer is a shitty way to go. It’s long and drawn out. I have always pretty much known that I’d prolly kill myself one day, though.

Don’t worry. I’m not suicidal right now.

There’s two things that keep me alive right now… pets and my mom.

The older I get, the more I stop talking to people that I once considered friends. At some point that obviously made me lonely since I have four dogs and a cat now… but the oldest is fourteen and spacey… I don’t know how many more years I might get with my soul mate. Then there’s the one-eye ten year old… she’s a larger breed… might not live as long… the cat is 7, so she’s got another 7-14 years on her… the other two dogs are four… so I’ll have them for like another 10 years…That means I’m good for about 14 years all together of having to stay alive because I made a commitment.

My mom is 61… in 14 years, she’ll be 75… Assuming there’s no cancer. Her dad lived to 72, her mom to 82… but cancer got them both, so it’s a coin-toss on how long she’s got. We all get cancer in this family… I already had some… Just a matter of when it comes back.

I don’t think I’m going to get more pets, though… I’m 27… so when all the pets are gone I’ll be 41. Then it’s a matter of when mom passes, and I think I’ll just go at that point.

In the past ten years nothing has really happened in my life worth mentioning. Same house, same place of employment… lot so of idiots I fucked, but none that are note-worthy… AND I’ve even stopped really having sex and dating, because I’m a cold, heartless cynic that thinks everyone is a moron. I can’t imagine anything else will change. I don’t have ambitions or dreams of anything better, because honestly there’s nothing WRONG in my life to dream of better. Maybe a better house someday… but then I think… why invest the money? I’ve resigned myself to the fact I will probably never find a life partner, and I don’t really want kids. So… what will I do when I’m all alone at 41?

I’ve made suicide plans before. When I was 14 I was gonna off myself at 26 unless my life magically ended up with a husband and some kids. It didn’t, but I had Keagan… and he’s my rock. No I’m 27 and I don’t have anything to show for it. It just seems like a mistake that I got more pets… but I love them, so I’ll stick around. Still, I don’t want to be alone when I’m 41 and just left to figure out what to do with the next 30-40 years of my life.

Plans are subject to change, of course, or I wouldn’t be here.
I really want to a corgi puppy when Keagan does finally leave me. It’s like… the only thing I really want… but I won’t be down enough pets to justify it by then… So maybe I’ll never have one… Maybe I’ll get one when I’m 40. Hard to say.

Everything is just shit… but at least I know that everything is awful for everyone.
I guess that helps… but not really.


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