Ages 14-20

I think I was about 14 when I had my first real existential musing. I was grounded as the night just passed I had gotten drunk, I remember, I had licked a p***y for the first time. 

I wrote in my notepad some two-bit prose and disjointed sonnet on how happiness is not to be found in 

a crotch

or a kiss 

or a job 

or a drink. 

But availed again I was. The convincing discourse of mundanity crept over my aspect like the shade from a speeding sun. and I made it to 16 at least with the content that passivity brings, the joy in stupid. 

Age 18 i decided to be as ugly as is natural and lost the favour of our youth. 

I would eat, 

smoke, 

drink in excess. 

Unwashed and unwilling to answer the call of ambition. 

The call of the rabble, too. 

To eat at a restaurant or 

speak to their parents, 

pretending they're caring 

but scowling and snaring. 

and preying like herons,

 overbearing and staring

 at what has become of the shell I am wearing. 

And still now in my vulgar adult form. Remnants of the child who found solace in company and parties, remnants of the boy who awoke with no shame can be found in forced arenas of social misdemeanours. And how I miss him on days. Firm and determined. 

Spitting and burning. 

The gun to my head can not be attributed to "growing up", 

my friends the same age are still f*****g in public 

and lusting at nothing. 

daring each other

 to cheat on their lovers

 with an older another. 

Yet day to day we hear not of their troubles,

 only holidays on islands and pictures with cousins. 

If I cannot look to others. I must look backwards. Inwards, even. An analyst would cost me too much.

I reek of dishonesty and holistic poverty.

I had my last existential musing when I was 20.