The Game
The top left corner of the room was showing signs of stress, not something a regular kid would notice. Then again he wasn’t a kid anymore. His father kept telling him that. The over emphasis killed the little spirit that he had left.
Work. It was necessary because of money. The entire world revolved around money therefore he needed it. Sure the nights were long and the job was monotonous but hey at least he got to keep what he made after his parents and creditors got their cut. Then again food wasn’t getting any cheaper and nights out on the town were getting to the point that he needed to plan them three weeks in advance.
What happened to being able to do what he wanted when you turned eighteen? That devil may cry attitude that came with heavy metal, fifty dollars, and a means of transportation. The dreams of making it big with an idea and drive; those days were long gone. He still had ideas and the drive but the world changed so much that he couldn’t get anyone to pay attention. Not even his parents understood what he wanted in life.
“You have a pipe dream. You have point a and point b but they are so far from each other you either make it or you fail David. You need to make a point closer to where you are right now.”
Those words were from none other than his father. Words that were supposed to clarify what it his son should do with his life.
“But if I make a closer guide point then what I want to do will become point c and the one that was closer becomes point b. Therefore no matter what I do I always end up making it to point b.”
Circular logic was all he had left to defend his psyche. Fragile smiles and depression plagued his face. The rest of the emotion was centered on four things: friends, music, writing, and love.
Music was a passion. It was something that couldn’t be separated from him even through death. One of his final requests would be to have his favorite songs played at his wake. It simplified his mood and made it easier for him to handle the shitty jobs or the constant need for money.
Work. It was necessary because of money. The entire world revolved around money therefore he needed it. Sure the nights were long and the job was monotonous but hey at least he got to keep what he made after his parents and creditors got their cut. Then again food wasn’t getting any cheaper and nights out on the town were getting to the point that he needed to plan them three weeks in advance.
What happened to being able to do what he wanted when you turned eighteen? That devil may cry attitude that came with heavy metal, fifty dollars, and a means of transportation. The dreams of making it big with an idea and drive; those days were long gone. He still had ideas and the drive but the world changed so much that he couldn’t get anyone to pay attention. Not even his parents understood what he wanted in life.
“You have a pipe dream. You have point a and point b but they are so far from each other you either make it or you fail David. You need to make a point closer to where you are right now.”
Those words were from none other than his father. Words that were supposed to clarify what it his son should do with his life.
“But if I make a closer guide point then what I want to do will become point c and the one that was closer becomes point b. Therefore no matter what I do I always end up making it to point b.”
Circular logic was all he had left to defend his psyche. Fragile smiles and depression plagued his face. The rest of the emotion was centered on four things: friends, music, writing, and love.
Music was a passion. It was something that couldn’t be separated from him even through death. One of his final requests would be to have his favorite songs played at his wake. It simplified his mood and made it easier for him to handle the shitty jobs or the constant need for money.