Here’s a valuable lesson, that almost made me want to call quits on every project I was working on; much later on in life when you’re dead, none of this shit will fucking matter. Yep, that’s right! That degree you poured your money and time into, that career you had to charm and hustle your way through, that body you've been dieting and chiselling away at …. All of it! Straight down memory lane only to be forgotten when you’re on your death bed.
However, depending on how you live your life, whether you’re an active nihilist or a passive one you could look at this in two ways. As I sat there with immense pain, permanent eye bags and blurry disillusioned vision I began to think exactly how you would think when you come to this realisation. Why the hell am I working my ass off tirelessly in this god forsaken cafe that doesn’t pay enough to fund my side gigs (that may never ever amount to anything), when I can call quits now and at this moment be gallivanting around Europe, drinking hard liquor and getting laid nightly? That thought pattern quickly dissolved when I realised that I’d still have to come back home eventually defeated, unaccomplished and most likely with an STI.
Once I got over my pity party I did a little reflection, some soul searching. I won’t bore you with my sordid past but I will conclude that at this moment I have everything that I have ever wanted, with the promise of more. Like most young middle class men and women, we suffer from hedonic adaptation. Everything we do becomes mediocre and dull after a while and after every goal reached, we strive for bigger, better and even crazier endeavours. The struggle of self actualisation is real for us since our basic needs are always fulfilled. It’s an endless loop, one in which you’ll constantly lose sight of yourself and your purpose. I’m still trying to figure out the balance between being grateful and wanting more, a hard equation to configure if you're someone who doesn’t like to be in the one place at the one time.
Although, I know for a fact that I can’t go off gallivanting to Europe (not just yet), escape the hard work that I’ve compiled and forget the life I asked for because it was no longer glamorous. As much as the desire is an often fantasy, it really boils down to the fact that there is nothing else that I am capable of doing. Even if I one day decided to pursue other career paths, I wouldn’t have the time or the energy to learn and develop the skills necessary to be successful in it. It just wouldn’t be possible. So I guess I’ll mop floors, make coffee and deal with bullshit customers for 40 hours of my week, just so I can fund my debut EP and this start up online business. Both projects that could potentially fail and wither away, however it beats the alternative; doing fuck all but still fantasising.
The reel of self doubt will always be relentless and infinite but the level of persistence and strength that counteracts that is always in your power. The fear of working too hard for nothing is comical, you’ll always be paid back in exchange of what you put in. It’s a trade system that humans developed centuries ago, one in which will continue to be used because of it’s efficiency. As I sat there with immense pain, permanent eye bags and blurry disillusioned vision after having fantasised about running away- I was awarded with what I worked hard for; progress.