Wasting Life

I sat alone, in the dark, at the age of twenty-eight, and I felt the weight of time leaning on my bones and on my mind.

"I have nothing" I thought to myself, wincing at the thought of a hundred dollars in my bank account and a little bright green car I don't like, or own, with it's squeaky brakes and it's goddamn loan.

I sat there in self-pity, and thought about the military, thought about white collars and closed deals, hand-shakes and high stakes, money rakes and busted tables, broken banks and climbing ranks, the money of my peers and countless blank stares into mirrors. I thought about every time I asked myself "What am I doing?" or told myself to "get it together" and how many times I failed to listen.

"What have I done with my life?" another sour shot at myself rang out, as I beat myself up over wasted time and a life that seemed to slip away.

A voice interrupted the wallowing with the simple suggestion of "Well..."

You French kissed a girl from France, threw up all over your pants, fought a man, shook the World Heavyweight Champion's hand, went to a foreign land, made love in the woods, told a Governor how to run his campaign, brushed a horses mane, received a standing ovation, made people from the ages of 1 to 100 laugh heartily, crashed through a barricade, climbed a tree, shot a gun, swam in December, broke some toes, broke a nose, severed a finger, kissed a red head, an older woman, a younger woman, a short woman, a tall woman, a loving woman and a hateful one, you've been a son an uncle, a brother, a cousin a grandson, a friend, an enemy and a leader.

You've followed blindly, questioned authority, broken a window, won, lost, been on a train, on a plane, on a bus, in a boat, on a snowboard, a skateboard, a bicycle, a motorcycle, earned a degree, managed a political campaign, been in a play, on the news, on a show, in the paper, read countless books, written poems, short stories, wrote a book, got the hook, broke it off, fell in love, been kicked in the head, been an arsonist a vandal a vagrant, a manager.

You've drank beers with the homeless and the rich, been arrested, gotten away, seen the mountains, the ocean, a shark and a bear, You set a bee hive on fire, gotten revenge, trained animals, you've been robbed, put a knife to a man's throat, walked away from a car crash, blushed, changed a mind, took a picture, won a bet, flipped a coin.

The voice took a deep breath and said, "I'm too tired to continue, quit your bitching and get on with it, you're fucking twenty-eight."