Would you believe I never actually worry about this stuff now?
Also, Clayton is on my facebook page talking about werewolves. You can’t really take yourself too seriously when you’re standing around, trying to mope, and some guy is standing next to you chattering about werewolves no matter what you have to say. I sometimes imagine doing various dangerous things, like serving in the trenches of WWII, only to have Clayton standing beside me talking about werewolves.
I don’t believe in anything anymore.
Except puns. And maybe breakfast.
I’m going to get drunk now.
You are Just Some Guy.
It is very important to remember that.
No matter how smart or stupid you may be.
No matter how beautiful or ugly.
No matter how famous or infamous.
You are still Just Some Guy.
When you were born, the world had been here long before you. When you die, it will remain long after. Nothing that has or will ever happen to you is unique in human experience. Your best, most heartfelt memories, the ones that took all your courage to live through, are unremarkable in the ears of History. In a thousand years, if that long, no one will even remember you ever lived. In the eyes of the universe, you are an unremarkable man living in unremarkable times.
Remember that, when you hurt so much it feels like the world is ending.
Remember that your pain is ordinary, commonplace, and mundane.
Remember that YOU are ordinary, commonplace, and mundane.
Take this medicine.
Every last drop.
It’s bitter, but it’s good for you. I promise.
We get through our lives by indulging in the fantasy that we are somehow essential to the continuation of existence, but this is not true. All of us, each and every last one of us, are no more than an extra in someone else’s movie. We are not even as important to our own selves as we pretend. And if you don’t believe that, then ask yourself how you let yourself fall into a situation like this. Ask yourself, if you really cared about your own well-being, how you let this happen?
Because you KNEW this would happen, didn’t you?
You KNEW and you went through with it anyway.
If you can accept that, then maybe you’re ready for this.
This is the hardest, but you need to understand it.
She was not a princess out of a fairy tale.
Not in any regard.
Woodland creatures did not bow before her aura of majesty. People did not marvel at her wisdom or beauty. She was Just Some Lady. She had a name, and an address, and all the other boring little bits of minutiae that come with being alive. She may not have been exactly the same as everybody else but she was no different. Almost everyone who saw her forgot her a few moments later. She was important to you, you even loved her, but she was still Just Some Lady.
It’s important that you know that she was Just Some Lady. Because she WAS Just Some Lady and all she did was happen not to love you. All she did was happen not care about you. That’s it. That’s all. That’s not a crime. There are several billion people on this planet and almost all of them will wake and fall asleep for the rest of their lives with no idea who you are. Almost all of them will live and die without any concern for your well-being. Her indifference is less than a drop in that ocean.
So let us twist this slow knife in your heart, and maybe if you can stare at that ocean of indifference with total honesty you’ll survive this somehow. She may have been the world to you, as men are often stupid in that way, but you were never more than a piece of tissue to her. And no one wants to hold onto a tissue after they’re done with it. And that is also no crime.
You are owed NOTHING.
That’s a circumstance, like all circumstances, as old as the human race. It is not special because it happened to you. The fact that the experience is yours carries with it no distinction, no merit, and no privilege. Any man who looks at himself in the mirror in the morning and even notices his reflection is a liar.
You are not a fallen hero.
You are not a diamond in the rough.
You are not chosen for any great destiny.
You are Just Some Guy.
Look in the mirror.
Is that a face anyone would ever call Romeo?
Is that a face that carries with it any sort of favorable impression whatsoever?
Is that a face you’ll find on the cover of a novel or a movie poster?
No. It isn’t.
And do not pout and say that it is not fair. Nobody cursed you and made you look like that. It happened to everyone else too. Even movie stars are ugly in moments like this. Nothing that was meant to be was broken, because nothing is ever meant to be. You are Just Some Guy and right now you have a choice.
You can sit here day after day, asking “Oh God, why hast thou forsaken me?” and wallow in misery, you can think about how your whole life has been unfair, about how no one has ever once loved you back like you needed, or even loved you like you loved them. You can spend all of eternity trying to understand the depths of this agony, or you can take some responsibility for yourself.
You can be brave.
You can be brave in the only way that matters. And that’s being brave when you really don’t want to be. When running away is easy and attractive and would feel like absolute bliss. When brave is the last thing you could ever possibly want to be. When the breath of the Nothing is near and cold on your neck and it would be so easy to stop and let its jaws clamp shut around your throat.
You will not think about rejection. After all, it is not as though you are so special that you are undeserving of rejection. There are a thousand parts of you that are EASY to reject. Nevertheless, you WILL pick up the pathetic pieces of your broken heart. You will pick up every last one of those razor sharp rubies that make you want to cut apart the whole world and you will make them into something pretty. You will make them into a marvel. You will turn them into something to dazzle and amaze.
Because whatever else you are, right here and right now you’re alive.
And if anything matters, that’s what matters.
And you will not think there is anything heroic about this. Because there’s nothing heroic about this. This is nothing more than living the life you were born with. The life that happened to you.
You are Just Some Guy.
But if you believe everyone matters, and if you decide to care about everyone, then instead of throwing you down in the Pit, that perspective can elevate the world. Even if you know that you are ordinary, you can still decide the ordinary is extraordinary.
Whatever else the mind is, it is a lens. A lens through which the world shapes you and a lens through which you shape the world. So choose to make a lens that can only see strength. Let that strength pour into you and lift you up and make you good.
You are Just Some Guy.
And you are no more special or important than anyone else.
But if you try very hard, maybe you can believe that everyone is special and important.
Maybe, if you really truly try.
I remember that it hurt.
It hurt beyond words or thought or true memory. My mind existed only as an instrument to experience the hurt. When the hurt receded, I could not fully remember how much it had hurt. Not really. Even after, when the pain was almost all-consuming, I knew it was not the same as the hurt.
The hurt could not continue.
One way or another, it had to end.
I held a coin in my hand.
I do not remember what kind of coin. I do not remember the time of day. I remember almost nothing save that I flipped it and hoped blind fate would give me permission or at least an excuse to end the hurt.
I remember looking down.
I remember living.
I remember disappointment.