Dealing with it

I've lived a life of comfort, and it's probably the worst thing that's ever happened to me.

If I wanted something, I'd get it. Money was a non-issue. I never had to earn anything; I never had to work towards something and learn the satisfaction - the real, true satisfaction - of a well-earned reward.

When problems arose, they were dealt with. I rarely had to lift a finger to get my way. Competition? Not a thing. Friends would come to my house, and we would do what I wanted.

Growing up, I shunned the only person trying to teach me work ethic; I outright fucking despised them. Even being asked to take out the trash would make my fucking blood boil.

As I left childhood, moved into adolescence and finally neared the end of high school, I had everything I wanted. I had friends, I had a girlfriend, I had carefully laid out plans to follow alongside my faithful companions.

And then my parents got divorced.

I had no time to get my affairs in order. I had no time to reevaluate my plans. I had no safety net. I've made three tremendous mistakes in my life, and this one proved ruinous - immediately following graduation, without even a month to consider, I went to a college I knew nothing about, in a town where I had no connections, with the hopes and dreams of everyone who ever believed in me.

I'd felt failure before; I'd failed myself plenty of times in the past, and it stung, but nothing - nothing - could compare to the pain I felt when I failed everyone else. Tens of thousands - my life savings, my parent's split income, my relative's allowances - gone, in less than two years.

The 'college' was a scam. My money was gone. The hopes and wonderment of my family, so invested in my potential, was gone. I'd been hurt before, but seeing the disappointment and disgust in the eyes and faces of those I'd known my whole life - those who had tried so hard to teach me about what it meant to be an adult - the pain was indescribable. I swore I'd never feel that way again. I would refuse to put anyone through such catastrophic agony.

Ever since then, I've been coasting along in a haze, embittered by my failures and haunted by my shame. It could've been great, and like so many before me, it all amounted to nothing.

I wandered through following years making no friends, making no connections; consciously avoiding any relationships for fear of bringing any close enough to see through my facade. I'd crack jokes, I'd smile, I'd laugh. I'd do what I was told to do as well as I could do it, and I did a damn good job. But deep down, I still hear what I really think.

"These people aren't my friends."

"I don't want to know this person."

"I don't care about any of this."

"I'm going to leave this place, and things will go back to the way they used to be."

Do I really want them to go back to whatever it is they "used to be?" Do I really believe that I was happy, being pampered and spoiled, handed everything I even mildly expressed an interest in?

Do I really know what I want? I can safely say, without a doubt, that I have no idea.