The Making Of An Indebted Man

I was perfectly content spending all day and night in my chair. Yes, I dealt with intense anxiety but that is only because when a person spends a lot of time sitting still in a chair they become very aware of what everyone else is staying busy to forget- death. I was very aware of the inevitability of my own death and not knowing when it would come made me feel very apprehensive. But I dealt with it and aside from this, I felt very content spending all day and night in my chair doing whatever I wanted.

I read my books. I stared out the window. I watched the sun set and the sun rise. I drew pictures. I followed my breathing. I meditated upon various things. I remembered my youth. I masturbated. I ate food that was delivered to me from a health food co-op. I felt peaceful. I lived off money that was provided to me by the generosity of others. I was not doing anything with my life and as a result I felt like I was living fully.

My mother would occasionally visit me and become mad. She always brought me flowers (I don’t know why). My mother bringing me flowers made me feel very uncomfortable. Why was I just sitting in that chair? She was angry that I was not doing anything with my life (my father could not even deal with visiting me). She could not understand that I was doing everything with my life. She wanted me to get up more. She did not think that spending all my time in a chair, alone in my room was healthy for a young man. I told her that the greatest thing about my life was that I was a man free of debt (I told her this because I knew she lived buried in debt).

My father and my mother owned two large homes. They had numerous credit cards. Several cars. A small airplane. My main memories of my father and mother are of them sitting around the kitchen table with a large check book opened and stacks and stacks of bills piled up in the center of the table. As a kid I knew that I did not want that to be me. But then my mother said to me one day when she came to visit: Debt my son is a wonderful thing. It is what our society is built upon and it is what allows us to have a good life. I didn’t know why, but my mother’s words often had a strong unconscious influence over me. They made me do things that I knew I really did not want to do.

A man dressed in a standard business man’s suit came into my room one day. He was carrying a briefcase. I was at the point where I was trying to teach myself how to walk on the ceiling. I would not sit in the chair as much and instead I would learn how to walk on the ceiling. That would feel like a valid accomplishment to me. I was obsessed and fascinated with the idea of learning how to walk on the ceiling. My imagination was running wild. The man offered me an American Express Card, a MasterCard and the opportunity to have any graduate school of my choice paid for by a loan. He told me that these things would drastically improve my life and I decided to think about it.

Should I give up learning how to walk on the ceiling? Should I not be spending so much time sitting in my chair, enjoying my life? Suddenly I felt bad for the way I was living. Irresponsible. Failed. Maybe there was a more adult way to live? Maybe debt could give me an even better life than the one I already had? I would at least make my mother, father, father-in-law, mother-in-law, grandmother, grandfather, uncle, aunt, wife, creditors, debtors, president, congress people, advertisers, business owners and others that I was not aware of proud. When the man dressed in the standard business suit returned to my room I told him ok. I signed several things. I took the cards. I chose a graduate school that I would attend and the man told me when I could start. He gave me a check that he told me I would pay back someday in the distant future. Congratulations son. You have made a smart choice for the direction of your life. Welcome to being a contributing member of society. This idea made me nervous but I went to graduate school anyways.

I got a graduate degree. I was then offered a house and decided why not. It would be nice to have my own home. A different man in a suit told me that the house could be all mine if I just signed here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here.

I got the house. It was a nice house with a large backyard. I bought furniture for the house with the cards that I was given by the first man in the standard business suit. I was then offered more cards by various strangers who seemed so happy to give them to me. Credit cards were being offered to me by everyone. I had never felt like such an accomplished and trustworthy person before, so I said yes to all of them. I figured this was the responsible thing to do. I had made it! I bought a car. I rented an office and started the business that I was told to start by the people in graduate school. I bought more furniture for my office with the cards that proudly displayed my name on them. Suddenly I felt like someone important. I felt like I was living a legitimate, adult life. I bought patio furniture.

My mother, father, father-in-law, mother-in-law, grandmother, grandfather, uncle, aunt, wife, creditors, debtors, president, congress people, advertisers, business owners and others all seemed proud of me. They all wanted to talk with me. When I walked into other people’s businesses I was treated with respect. I had accomplished great things now that I was a man in debt. Suddenly people wanted to spend time with me and pay me for my time. I could buy whatever I wanted but the strange thing was that I started to feel very sad and had no idea why.

I missed those days when I spent day and night just sitting in a chair. I regretted that I had not learned how to walk on the ceiling. I was too busy and occupied now. If I spent too much time sitting in a chair I noticed that I felt bad. I tried but I always felt like I should be doing something else. I checked my iPhone a lot. I had a business to attend to. A house to run and keep clean. Things needed to get done and just sitting in a chair felt like I was letting important things remain undone. Now I was not anxious because of the reality of death, but I had dozens of others things that I worried could go wrong. My hair started to thin and fall out. I felt a dark despair in me that I had never felt before but began using my cards more to buy things and an effort to get the despair to go away. I bought expensive healing products to heal the diseases I felt like I was vulnerable of catching as a result of living a more stress-filled, adult life. I drank more wine to make the anxiety dissolve away.

I would forget to pay bills. I didn’t have energy to pay bills. How did my parents do it? I didn’t want to pay certain bills. Why should I pay my student loan back, when this was the life it had gotten me into? The man in the standard looking business suit had not told me the truth. I felt more and more depressed. More and more trapped. I longed for the simpler times when I was perfectly content just sitting in my chair. I just wanted to be able to walk on the ceiling and do other spontaneous and creative things. Instead, my life became routine. There was nothing else to do.

No one else seemed to notice how much I was suffering. I thought about ending my life. I thought about how trapped I felt. I felt rage towards the men in business suits and my mother for giving me terrible advice. I felt set up. I started experiencing anxiety attacks and was given Lexaproby another man in a nicer suit. After several weeks of taking the pills I started to feel better. I started to feel a bit more relaxed and content in my life. It was working! The despair and anxiety subsided and gradually I was not so miserable going to work. My sex drive vanished, I put on a bit of weight but when I sat down at my kitchen table and paid off the stack of bills, it didn’t feel so bad. Now I could begin getting my credit score back on track. I could start exercising, meditating and maybe even reading again. I could begin to just enjoy working, driving, buying things, hanging out with other people, taking care of my house and living an average life in the suburbs. It felt nice. I lost all interest in learning how to walk on the ceiling but who cares, that sort of thing doesn’t matter anyways.

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Author: kafkaesque77

It is all on the blog....

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