Lessons in loneliness and liquor-soaked loves: A life spent living in my head.
I’m twenty-four, and I know I haven’t really been on this earth too long, but even so; there just way too many things I question, things I disagree with, and even things that I daydream about just because it makes me happy to do so.
I know I’ve fucked a lot of things up in my life; I always joke about drinking too much, doing too many drugs, and just being overall crazy. And I can see how people would think, “Geez, what the fuck is he thinking? Doesn’t he know he’s just being stupid and fucking up his life?”
But to be honest, if I could go back in time, I wouldn’t change a single moment of my life. Because really, I feel like if I did, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. And I believe in learning from your mistakes, not regretting them.
I can honestly say I’ve probably crammed more life into my insignificantly short time on this earth than most people do in they’re entire lifetime, and that would be absolutely impossible without my experiences, every single one, good and bad.
Because really, there are some things that you can only understand after doing them to the point of utter insanity, and then thinking about them profusely afterwards.
I finally understand the quote, “The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom,” which a lot of dumb motherfuckers just use as an excuse to hide in insobriety without even realizing what the fuck it means.
Drugs and alcohol don’t do shit as far as making you more philosophical or creative like people always like to brag, but what they do provide is a clear window into the utter depths of the human condition; what people are really like on the inside; what people really look like under these wonderful facades everyone parades around with.
And it gets you thinking about morality, right and wrong, happiness, and what it means to really obtain self-actualization. Who are we to impose our beliefs on everyone else? Who are we to say we have the right to govern others? Who the fuck are we to say who or what makes you happy, and whether or not you’re allowed to do it?
In my opinion, morality and all that other bullshit is all subjective. Words and titles are worth crap in the grand scheme of the world, and we as individuals are just that; individuals.
Living by something you don’t believe in deep down is just lying to yourself. And the one thing that I have believed in from the day I was born up until now was:
“Be happy however the fuck you want, and as long as you aren’t fucking with anyone else’s happiness, you’re fine.”
And I know that’s awfully general, and there are a fuckload of grey areas, but really, that was basic tenet of what I thought it meant to be a good person.
But now I realize how imcomplete that statement was. It’s a bit sad, hah; you know what took me twenty-four long, bloodstained years to finally realize?
Your life is your life. And your happiness is you happiness. If something makes you happy, maybe you should look into it. Because at the end of it all, that’s what life is;
The pursuit of happiness.
But no one can ever really be happy alone.
Often the only way to really be happy
is to make other people happy too.