He sat in his once tidy room, bunched up in a bedsheet in a corner of the mattress laid on the floor. Sure he abhorred living in a messy, dis-organised room, but it was all temporary he told himself. He would soon get things back into their place when he would be in the mood. Right now he just wanted to sit and watch some light hearted comedy entertainment. He deserved it, he needed a break from the stress of his life. Although, now that he thought about it, his life was just like his room messy, dis-organised, untidy, unhygienic and needed a real good cleaning and perhaps a disinfectant or a bug spray.
Settling down and indulging in the mind numbingly dull teenage angst trash he was not just ignoring and wishing away the dump that his room was but also doing the same with his life. He was running away from his responsibilities. Though it may be wrong to call them, that. I mean when you say responsibilities it implies that it’s some kind of duty that you are obliged to. Well he was not obliged to anyone. That was the kind of freedom his parents had afforded him. His responsibilities were more in his own interest. And he had prided himself in being true to himself yet, here he was. Squandering his freedom, his time and not at all exploiting his talent or potential.
Everyone who knew him had high hopes from him, perhaps even higher than he ever wanted to think of himself. But his only limitation was his own pessimism and tendency to hide from his problems than facing them head on.
The biggest irony was, though he was an expert in throwing the choicest string of words, facts and logic to get his point across and discuss, debate and on occasions berate someone on the social media, he was the biggest loser when it came to actual communication with people who actually valued his words and opinions the most. Can we call it an irony or do we call it a tragedy?
His tendency to avoid his issues became so severe that shutting himself down became his go to reaction. Despite realising how much was at stake and that he could stand to lose the only thing in his life that meant the most t him, friendship and company, well also the appreciation, accolades and validation that came with it, he still could not bring himself to talk about himself to anyone. At the most he could manage was friendly conversation with people regarding their lives and their problems, but then they would remind him of his own so he started to avoid them too.
Perhaps simply calling him lazy, non-confrontative and a loser might not be completely justifiable, because he also lacked the most important thing i.e introspection. He was so deep in the river of denial that he could not even comprehend what exactly his issues are, except that they were stressing him out so bad that he had lost appetite and track of his life. So actually talking them out was not really going to happen.
And his issues! God did he have the most peculiar, idiotic, stupid, obnoxious, self-centred, narcissistic, god damned pathetic issues. He suffers from paradoxical delusions, he loves spending time with friends and talking to people about the ‘deep’ stuff and yet puts most of his energy in cooking up excuses to avoid people. He is scared of hurting people and ends up doing so in the worst way possible ignoring them, often in the time of their need. He loves helping people figure out what’s going in their lives, and this my friends is a double whammy, because guess what? Not only does he avoid getting mixed up in peoples lives too deeply to prevent fucking it up but neither has he managed to figure out his own life at all.
One mistake after another he has spun up such a web of lies, denial, lethargy, incompetency, pessimism that now he is comfortably wrapped up in it wishing that everything will sort out itself. Guess again loser!
The most fucked up thing of all is perhaps that his favourite hobby of writing what’s on his mind has become his bane. Because of the crap that he has neglected from clearing from his mind, he has been unable to write anything more significant than snarky retorts on social media. And that’s why now in the middle of the night he is up writing about himself in the third person like a God damned narcisstic lunatic that he is! FUCK HIM!