A young man lays in a half-made bed surrounded by bare, grey walls. The shades are pulled down, letting on a cold grey tint and a beam of light that shot across the room into a muddy shoe print on his carpet. The floor directly beneath the bed carries a slew of clothing, food wrappers, and the other half of his bedding — too dirtied to be placed back on the bed. It was quiet. The silence would be deafening if it wasn’t for the faint hum from the phone directly in front of him.
All day, he worked a job he settled for. He never really explored his passions early on -- that was too much work. He would much rather chase attention, and shirts, and shoes, and clothes, and whatever he saw in front of him than a devoted life. When he worked, he never understood the notion why people consiously choose to put effort into their jobs. He would much prefer to drag about his days so that he can get his paycheck at the end of the week. It was completely foreign to him that his work actually affected people. His paycheck was his worth, yet he felt entitled to more. Nevertheless, every day after his shift, he got home and sat directly on his phone for hours.
It was right here -- in front of his phone -- that he lost his empathy. He became more skeptical, less curious, and genuinely cold. Every night, he ravaged the comments sections for new creators, passionate business people, and small artists; he thought himself better for living the 'easy life'. The truth is that he saw something in them that he lost long ago -- drive. But he doesn’t know that in this moment. He only feels something missing; something that threatens him when it’s in front of him. And so he taunts it back.
So long ago, he had a legitimate life. He socialized, his ambitions were high and mighty. Every day, he smiled and laughed. But along the way, his dreams became materialistic. He dreamed of being rich, being showy. He wanted every action he took to have some commercial value. Well, I guess he technically got his wish in that regard -- commercial value and nothing more.
Now, when he looks at all those driven people, all he can feel is the need to be at the top of the ladder. He wants it so bad that he’s willing to berate the people climbing it with negative words, and negative actions. And so, he spirals further into his guilt, and into his shame. His pride has been tarnished by his lack of perspective. He doesn’t understand that you cannot move up the ladder by sawing it down. You can only move up by climbing it.
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Thank you for reading.