Just this Once

"When did you get so serious?"

What a laughable, disgusting question. Nothing ever changes, except what people know. My own family never knew.

Every morning, following a lovely dream of somewhere else at some other time, I struggle to get out of bed. I think, is there a point, or, how will I mess up today? I spend extra hours in bed, just trying to go back to sleep. It only gets worse as the deadline arrives, the supposed finish line of my life at home.

It's nothing special, my life. I'd try my best after waking to do something with it each day. It always ended up being worthless. And I've tried everything.

I think what gave me hope was all the letters people had sent me. Following my pitiful graduation, I received several letters full of cash and kind words, far more than I'd received for any birthday. I looked at the cash, and saw myself "earning money". I then renewed my mission to earn more.

With hope sent by letters, I renewed my thoughts for a job. I, like most of my friends, had no job, but I needed one, so I applied to dozens of them. All the fast-food places and grocery stores had big signs: "We're hiring!", and other shit like that. I was looking forward to finally having a job again.

I never did find out why I wasn't what anyone wanted. I assume it was the lack of job experience, but I'll never know. I learned how to form a resumé from a high school class, like many others did, and just last year, I worked myself to my limit trying to get the golden Eagle Scout Award, the thing my dad said would "practically guarantee" an upper hand in the world of resumés. What a laughable, disgusting lie.

After weeks of not getting hired, I gave up. College was approaching, and no one would want to hire anyone for a position for only a couple months, even if they did put down that they would be free every hour of every day. Not on purpose. I applied to temp jobs, thinking that would work. None of them responded.

This was not all I did, not by a long shot. I used to play videogames, but now I can't bring myself to. I don't deserve to. I should be busy. I try to be busy.

I had assets, I realized. So with a portion of what money I had, I attempted day-trading. They had all these ads everywhere I looked, and despite the state of the economy, they promised cash. And cash, I received.

I tried to be smart. I put all kinds of companies on my watchlist. Amazon, Disney, various pharmaceutical titans, cruiselines, oil companies, even Bitcoin. Look at me now, I'd say. I've grown so much. 

Out of those combined hours of stress over 3 months, I got a total of $11.34. A real profit.

At the same time, I tried to start a lawncare business. I made flyers and cards and a logo, trying to tell the neighborhood that I was worth hiring. I looked up selling techniques, watched more webinars. I tried to be more friendly as I walked by, but everyone is still afraid of everyone.

I also tried selling stuff online. Not a single offer.

With more of my endless amounts of nothing (time), I tried something many times more risky. A rich guy in an hour-long webinar promised cash, just like the stock-trading apps, if only I would partake of his risk-free, 5000% value, new method of marketing that I could sell. He made it seem like something I could even make a job out of.

That didn't work out, either.

I shouldn't be so stressed, or so says my logical side. My parents graciously decided to pay for my first semester at the college of their choice, so I should have no worries. A university whose religious affiliation I wanted nothing to do with. One which, at the time of my choosing it, I thought I would survive, both the being in it and lying about my belonging to its church. But now, I no longer know if I can handle 4 years of that.

And to think that last year, I even questioned the very need for a college degree. If people like what you do, they'll just hire you to do it for them, right? 

Wrong. I've been taught by my dear old dad how to be the best employee, like a poison. He only taught me to be a follower, not a leader. In school, I've been taught how to make the best resume, and how to get companies to want me, and it was all wrong. In the darkest nights, I curse him and the world for making me what I am, and then I take it back and curse myself for listening.

And then I take it back again. I'm just mad that I'm worthless, that's all.

What I would do for money. If I'd just gotten a job before the pandemic, the one that's killed hundreds of thousands, I would have shown myself to be a top employee... or I would have been laid off like the rest of them. And now, I'm in the final days before I leave for college, and I feel like I've wasted my entire life. If I can't scrap money together for a single stay at one the cheapest private universities on Earth, I don't belong here.

This is the mad back-and-forth beating I give myself every day, as I attempt and fail to get out of bed. And at every meal, my family just feels awkward sitting around me, the boy who's been given everything, the boy who won't join their prayers to their god, the boy who says nothing to any of them anymore. Last night, my mother said with a finality, "When did you get so serious?". The question is, when did I stop caring what she and the rest of them thought? When did it become too much?

I know I'm killing myself with the pressure I apply to my laughable, disgustingly lazy self. I should be doing more, earning more. But I just can't. And that is why,

that is why

I'm giving up?

I don't know. In reality, I know I haven't yet tried everything, and I often wonder how I get so paranoid about my value. Maybe one day I'll learn that money isn't everything, but this pandemic has not ruined my life, not like it has for millions of other people. It's just delayed it.

And just the other day, I remembered an online writing contest with free entry and a cash prize for the winner. Not that that matters. Maybe, just this once, I can find value in being listened to rather than being paid. Just this once.