This is the story of the guy no one picks. The sideline jockey of life. By now I am 26 and have yet to experience intimacy. My friends are slowly falling away as they get married or otherwise engaged in a relationship without room for simple me. I know, I’m still young, I have a lifetime ahead of me. But unlike many people I’ve lived a lifetime worth of good and bad experiences. They left a mark on me that scarred me as the outcast, the freak, so to say. One glance and an average human being prefers to turn around and walk away from me.
I don’t wallow in self pity, I don’t drown in negativity, but I’m a marked man with a backpack big enough to leave it’s shadow over my soul. Partially due to this, I have the amazing ability to turn everything I do into a disappointment. Something I’m involved in is simply somehow doomed to fail. Every single time I build something of meaning, I give all I have. To see it destroyed time and time again is discouraging, but so far I am too stubborn to let that stop me from trying again. I like to see myself as a practical guy with a love for logic and reason. This allows me to make the following promise to myself:
I will try with all that I am and with everything that I have, to improve my life. I will try to find the love and respect I desire. If I turn 30 and I have not achieved the happiness and the sense of belonging I need, if I have not found that special someone, then that’s it for me, I’m out. The game of life is only worth playing up to a point. On my 30th birthday, when I’m still this alone, I will commit suicide.