We were hunched over the bar, sipping on our draft beers ever minute or so. Eric, my longtime friend from high school, just got offered a job earlier that day, so we went to Sly Fox, a local brewery, to celebrate. My other unemployed friend, Karl, made an appearance as well to toast to this victory. After jumping ship from a depraved gig back in April, Eric has been unemployed for the past six months. So, after trudging through his tribulations, a couple beers was well deserved.
Our beers were tapped off a couple more times and constant chatter was yapped back and forth. After closing our tabs, we rambled out of there and said our farewells. Then on my solo drive home, my current state dawned on me, again. I can recall five or six years ago, meeting up with these guys to smoke or drink beers in this area; I guess not much has changed since then: unemployed, living at home, just passing the time.
With that, I then look ahead five years and grapple the idea of me still doing the same thing. I love my friends, but fuck continuing this repeating cycle. I try to make the most out of my days to continue progression, but at times–like last night–I wonder if I am or not.
A looming cloud of despair drifts over me for a moment, but I step out from under it. Pity is an inherent trait of mine (according to astrology), but it’s one I can’t affiliate with anymore. Otherwise, I’ll end up at the bar again–saggy face, extra pounds strapped to my waist, years older, and lamenting what could have been.