After much deliberation and self-reflection over the past few days, I've stumbled upon a very sad truth: virtually nothing and no one in this town is real. We are consumed in such material and worldly wonders and if it weren't for our necks we would soon lose our heads up our own asses. I am at fault, greatly, for focusing on many of the same trivial pursuits lately. I party, I overuse social media, I fake relationships with dozens of people daily, etc. I'm not saying that these are terrible things in themselves and that no one should ever party or be nice to someone they may not particularly like.
However, consider the last party you went to, for example, a New Year's Eve party. Think of twenty people that were there. Now, think of five non-physical things about them. How much do you actually know about any of your "friends" that you get fucked up with over the weekend? Honestly, I can think of maybe five people who I party with that I would truly consider my friends. To paraphrase a tweet I saw last year: "We're all fucked up so we get fucked up." Does that not ring sadness in you? Do we just settle for getting fucked up every weekend because we're truly too lazy or passionless to care about anything else?
"All those paper people living in their paper houses, burning the future
to stay warm. All the paper kids drinking beer some bum bought for them
at the paper convenience store. Everyone demented with the mania of
owning things. All the things paper-thin and paper-frail. And all the
people, too. I've lived here for eighteen years and I have never once in
my life come across anyone who cares about anything that matters." - John Green, Paper Towns
Really take time to read and understand that quote. Ask yourself how exactly it applies to you, in your romantic Midwest fantasy, so drowned in your own numbing liquor, beer and sorrow cocktail. Nearly everything about the scene that we so avidly portray as a senior class of 2014 is pathetic. We strive to do nothing but get messed up on the weekend, throwing our brains away and shutting down completely because we simply don't have the capacity to give a fuck about anything or anyone else. When I hear stories of people's phones or shoes being stolen because they got too fucked up at a party, I honestly can't think of anything to say. I can't apologize, because ultimately it is their fault. I can't wish them better luck next time, because it is bound to happen again. I can't say anything but the passive and all-too-familiar phrase, "damn, dude, that sucks." I am not sure what sucks more: the fact that they've lost an expensive item, namely a pricey white iPhone that they have never parted with since its purchase, or that they've simply lost themselves. It's cliche and simple, but true all the same.
We have all lost ourselves in the gray-washed paper town we call home.
