You can’t tell me apart from the degenerates now. Sunken eyes, persistent cough, ratty clothes. I knew this was one of the side effects. When I woke up and discovered the cage of fear surrounding me I didn’t recognize my life. All of my values were designed to keep me pure and untainted. Staying pure has no end game. Took me too long to understand that. The company I keep reflects my worldview. I’d rather be broke and honest than rich and still living a lie. 

I moved to Seattle with a modest savings and wild dreams of what I can accomplish. Everywhere is pretty much the same when it all comes down to it. If I’m going to fail I want to be somewhere I am proud of. A person shouldn’t die in the same place they grow up. Especially if you don’t fit in there. I don’t expect to fit in here but I can at least blend in. When asked why Seattle I just tell them it’s the weather.

My only goal is to survive. Something everyone around here takes for granted. They survive every day, going to work and playing out miniature dramas year in and year out. They don’t think about the simplicity of just holding a job that lets them keep going to work. Paying bills because that’s what you do. Buying food whenever you are hungry. They think being frugal is splitting an Uber.

At 35, I resemble every one of my parents’ worst fears. I’m divorced, paying too much for rent and unable to make ends meet. I don’t eat right, drink too much, smoke pot and sleep until noon every day. I have multiple sexual partners and almost zero friends, essentially making me a soulless whore. I’m also happier than I’ve ever been. Single and struggling, I’m living out what should have happened in my youth. I’m exploring my boundaries and pursuing interests.

The most glaringly obvious change after I woke up was my sudden disregard for what other people think. I spent 30 years trying to make other people happy expecting that one day I could relax and actually be myself. For the last 8 years I’ve done yoga. Three years ago I started talking to a therapist. Three months after that I saw a psychiatrist who suggested taking Prozac with a supplemental mood stabilizer.  By the next year I was making plans to leave Memphis.