I think it happened yesterday, or maybe it was two days ago. I forget. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. The point is that it happened. I met up with her, we exchanged bodily fluids, and now I’m pretty much confused about what to do with the rest of my life.
It’s as if I’ve lived my whole life in this daze, this short-term goal where all I wanted, all I have ever dreamed of is one night with her. It’s ridiculous, and I doubt any of you will forgive me for such idiocy, but it’s exactly what happened. Everything I have ever done was so that my life could culminate to this point.
But yeah, I have probably a good forty years left in me still. What do I do now?
I’m not sure where things went wrong. When I was eight or nine, I had aspirations of becoming an astronaut, a doctor. By fourteen, I thought I was a smartass and figured being a plastic surgeon would be the way to go. But ever since the day I found myself falling for her, all that I ever wanted to achieve in life went by the wayside. And now, that I’ve somehow reached my goal, my life has become a bottomless pit of boredom.
What I find myself asking now is, “Was she worth it?” I don’t really know. I mean, it’s over. There is no “us” from now on. In fact, there never was. All this makes me feel so sad. Empty.
“There’s a lesson in this, kids.” That’s what I’ll tell some punk after I spit out this story to him twenty years from now. I’ll be the sage, wise man who’s had experience in heartbreak and blind love. Maybe I’ll be a motivational speaker. Maybe I’ll become a therapist. Maybe I’ll wake up one day and find myself in heaven, dead and finally content.