Heard Once On A Podcast

 

Heard Once On a Podcast
By Christopher R. Myers

You wanted this.

It rings in my head, like the silly quote from your favorite movie that you made your ringtone on the first cell phone you ever had; didn't take long to come to hate that now did it?
You wanted this.

Back and forth behind my eyes it rattles off the sides of my skull.

If you don't wanna work then that's your job. A notion I should've taken to heart and understood when I was broke and lazy and 19, but that didn't hit me until I left what the rest of my culture deems “work” in order to perform life as a slave to myself. Once I stopped getting paid for the last time was when I finally had to own up to the only boss that should've ever mattered in my life. It took me a year to train myself into being able to exist without being beholden to something from without, to be the type of attentive worker asshole who show up on time, and I was only having to “show up” in my own living room on time. You couple this new found cage of freedom with the fact that I had finally come round to the idea that the party was over and I could either continue being a no direction alcoholic or I could put it away and figure it out on sober terms, and you have someone wandering the world with new eyes and no foundation. I'm fortunate to have lucked backwards into a calm, capable, willing, and knowledgable support system. Without it I've no idea where I'd be. Probably rushing to the world's end on a boozy tirade of destruction.

I built my life around this idea that I couldn't be stopped until I was dead, and damn it I was either invincible or had my grave plot picked out depending on the hour of the day and what chemicals where keeping me stable at the moment. Every 20 year old thinks they're gonna die before 30, and some of us did everything in our power to meet that fate yet came out the other side scarred from touching the face of our limits. We still died there. Some literally never made it, they touched oblivion and vanished forever. Others came back chained in stasis, unable to push the clock forward. Those of us that came back scarred forever left a piece of our souls in that place effectively killing the person we were, as well as the person we would've been before we came seeking a sad end.
I wanted that, and I'm a product of the consequences.

Remember, you wanted this, and you're lucky you have the ability to even dream such a dream.

I can't take any of this for granted. I quit the rat race and chewed a hole in the wall to make a great escape only to find that beyond the comforts of the theatrical maze is a wild untamed land that will stomp on you before it even thinks to feast on your tiny furry body. The one thing I did learn from years of trying to die was how to survive, and that I adapt well and easily to the untamed and unhinged. I was too young to appreciate that freedom came with it's own set of bars the first time I made way to taste the open air. When I woke up and realized some druggie asshole had rube goldberged me into a free range prison I had time to think. Freedom means doing what I want, but that 23 year old jerk who built this cage didn't want nothing, but more beer and for the sun to not rise on his wasted youth.

Freed myself by finding what I wanted, and work till I'm sick to remain free to do what I want.

You wanted this, the voice of a filmamker I loved growing up echoes in my head, as I labor over another dumb joke, my father asking if I'm eating enough and workign too much.
Yeah I did Silent Bob. And thanks for everythng.