My Egotistical Entitlement Issues

A few months ago, I went to a psychology department website and found the question: "At What Point is Life Not Worth Living?"

Since then, I have been evaluating what makes my own life worth living. In August, I came to the conclusion that Intimacy and Literature give my life value.

Recently, life has been teaching me how to do without.

January was a strange new beginning for me. For about a month, I moved out of my father's house. Without a job or a car, I slummed around trying to think of new ideas. I learned that the necessities that I take for granted are actually luxuries: heat, gas stove, electricity, running water, transportation, family, friends and coworkers.

In January, eight of the things I understood to be fundamental basics dwindled down to one, heat. And for a few weeks, I lived without the rest.

My father calls it "slumming" when people who are middle or upper-class act as tourists visiting other (lower income) areas solely for the experience of tasting disadvantage up close, before returning to the comfort of their own privilege.

While I know the term is usually reserved for whites trying to understand the plights of blacks, I wonder if my father would have called my January, "slumming".

I am probably the most spoiled person you will ever meet -- who doesn't have anything. It is my own ego, not my possessions, which grant me an heir of entitlement. For 24 years I never owned a car; for three years I haven't had steady work; I have no property, no income, and no investments; and honestly, most of the clothes that I own are over 15 years old.

And yet, nothing is getting through to me. Nothing.

For a week, I slept in a car. I felt as if I was perpetrating. I only slept in the car because it was closest to the library where I could read and check my email for free. If I would have absconded with my pride to a family member's house, I probably would have been even further away from resources.

Even though, I haven't found work -- I still don't feel as if I am struggling. I figure one day, an employer will call and hire me. I'll start saving again, paying off my defaulted debt, and return to the lifestyle of a 'boogie' middle class twenty-something year old.

Elders have said the my generation has 'entitlement' issues. I am certain that many would say that of me and my possessionless spoil. There is a part of me that looks at the 25-35 year olds who are moving up the respective ladders, and trying to figure out 1) where I went wrong, 2) what they are doing that I'm not and 3)how can I catch up.

I'm not a competitive person -- but I am always aware of who my competition is. I compete with myself. I am competing to be the best version of myself. Right now, we're both losing. While you should never compare your own life to the lives of your peers --- you have to, at least, be aware.

For years, I have been drowning in my own ignorance. I find it disgusting. I find my own myopia to be repulsive.

I have determined that the only time when life is not worth living is when physical bodily pain becomes so great, that no remedy will lesson its sting.

Emotional pain is hard to bear but my remedy is laughter. My life has become so pitiful it is quite hilarious -- the proper material for a late night comedy skit or cartoon strip.

This April, it will be 13 years since Lee's suicide. And yes, I still count. I always said that one suicide is enough for a family. So even through the embarrassment of my own foolish short-sighted stupidity, I live on.