Frivolity

A Story by Qwine

An old man decides it's time to make a significant change in his life.

There once was a man who was not very pleased with himself. At the simple turn of his head he'd see someone who was more successful than he was. He thought for a moment as he walked down the street, how is one successful? Well, what are we envious of? Good looks and wealth. After all, what else mattered in a world like this?

The man would let out a soft sigh every so often as his daily routine ensued. The dissatisfaction of an unlived life leads to nothing but disappointment, yet there was comfort in that constant. The comfort in the fact that things go just as fast and just as slow as they always have (if you do the same things you always have). He was well aware of the sameness he'd become accustomed to, and lived by.

Everyday when he walked into the office he'd see how far so many before him, and even after him, had gone. He was curious to know how many more zeros were at the end of their paychecks. When he strolled down the parks and beaches, he knew very well that he was the least handsome. He'd gotten old. He is an old man.

***

He was perched on a rock looking out to the shore late at night, once everyone had gone home. He sat there and moped for an hour. What a cruel hand fate had dealt to him, he thought. Not once did he stop to think that the situation he was in was completely his fault. He had dreamed as a young boy, though instead of deciding to live it out, he bent his back as time passed. Tomorrow, he told himself. But tomorrow never came. It's always today.

As the old man lifted his head from his hands, he saw, in the distance, another man in a suit, walking in his direction. However, this man was young, good-looking, and appeared to be wealthy. To the old man's surprise, he noticed the other man wore a glistening smile; the man in a suit was happy.

The man in a suit stopped by and asked the old man what he was doing.

"Moping. Life is unfair and fate has dealt me a lousy hand. "

As soon as the old man had said this, the man in a suit gave the cynic a look of pure remorse, but replied, "life is how I've always known it. All that matters is how you react to everything that happens in your life."

"Don't think you can tell me about life, boy. I've been here far longer than you have. "

"Well you don't seem very happy with what you've made of your life. It wasn't fate or God that made you who you are, it was you. You've no one to blame..."

The old man decided to look the boy in the eyes, he was stubborn, stuck in his ways, yet wanted change. He was, quite literally, the very definition of insanity.

The man in a suit sat down beside the rock and his suit got dirty. "Look, you are the master of your own destiny. If you've not lived the way you've wanted to, then that's because... you didn't. It's that simple. The only thing ever stopping you is yourself. If you want to succeed, then go succeed. You are old and unhappy... you cannot change the fact that you have aged, but happiness can be a choice."

The old man had known that for a long time. He just never knew what to do. He began to realize that what he had to do, was what he would enjoy doing. He had to seek satisfaction, and stop comparing. He'd told himself the same things many times. Every time, he said he would take a stand and make his change. He never did. This time was different though. This time, everything would be different and he knew it. He couldn't stand the fact that it was a young boy who stopped to tell him all this. He wished he didn't. He could have been smart enough on his own to remind himself of all that.

The man in a suit and the old man remained sitting quietly, simply looking at the vast and immense body of water that spread out before them. They shared a moment of silence and of recognition, and like that, became an intricate part of each other's lives.

The old man returned home with renewed vigor. He felt he was ready to make any and all changes necessary to no longer waste his time the way he had been doing his entire life. He smiled much in the same way had the young gentleman he'd met earlier. Once he rested his head on his pillow, he knew that tomorrow he would be the master of his own destiny; he knew everything was up to him.

***

When the old man had risen he recalled the events of the previous night and how inspired he was. He was ready to fix his life before it was too late; to make something of whatever time he had left.

***

Once the old man had arrived home, he realized there had been no differences. He had changed nothing at all in the entire day. He'd not made a single change that he planned to make. It had simply been another one of those times where he told himself he would change. He decided to not dwell on ti too much and start fresh tomorrow. "Tomorrow", he said.

Before bed, he looked at himself in the mirror, and felt as though he looked through himself. What a disgusting, useless piece of s**t... he thought.

He sighed, crawled into bed, and cried himself to sleep.

He cried himself to sleep every night after that until his death.

It was easier to hate himself than to change.