The Story of a 30 Year Old Loser

Surprise!!!! Thirty years is smacking me in the face with a very cruel and sharp sting. I'm older, fatter, uglier than ever before and everyday I wake up reminded of that as I walk in to a kitchen strewn with my roommates previous night's pizza entrails, the alcohol bottles of her 21 year old self discovery phase stacked in the open spaces in the room. Yes, I share an abode with a couple of 21 year olds. Every day I'm faced with the realization that this is what I have created for myself. Instead of making my path into a nice little townhouse that I keep, I wasted my years into a pig sty for a whopping $450 a month, which is almost more than my pity job can afford. I see my peers from school in differing phases of their own lives. Some, share my lack of glamour. And then there are the ones that I thought I would be in the company of. The achievers. The doers. I dreamt of great things when I was younger. Now, I can barely remember a single one of them. I try to figure out where I would like to take this detour. I convince myself that I am fashionably late in my arrival to adulthood. That, this is the road I meant to take. This is how I envisioned my struggle to greatness to be. Again, it's a harsh reality when I force myself to the truth. I'm here because I'm lazy. The greatness I once possessed has washed down the gutter and been replaced with a boneyard of aspirations. Now, reader, don't take this as a pathetic ploy for anything. I am here, I acknowledge it. I'm trying again to dream. I'm trying to discover where I can get find the water to nourish a blossom of hope for the next decade of this existence. So, for my 30th birthday wish, I wish for unfleeting motivation, for an inkling of a plan, for a little courage to start on the path, and for a taste of the greatness I know I was destined for.