I’ve been saying for years, as my friends are aware, that my life isn’t satisfying to the point it ought to be. And I attribute this to not living right. The material gains I’ve attained over the years bring me no lasting pleasure or sense of purpose. Living alone, isolated from others except for appointments with clients, classes at school, and occasional visits with local acquaintances has made for what feels like a rather meaningless, pointless existence. The local acquaintances come and go, as do the classes, leaving my clients as my primary lifeline for experiencing touch, intimacy, and affection with others. And I do thank them for that.
My personal life has been reduced down to phone calls with loved ones many miles away or, in the past, empty one-night stands after nights out at bars, seeking some measure of comfort from strangers because I had (and still have) no idea how to go about connecting with other like-minded people. Empty. Depressing. Purposeless. And it only serves to remind me how much I long for something better.
People are strange. And cold. And distant. They have their own lives to tend to and won’t be bothered by some young girl seeking acceptance or love. Well, that young girl has grown into a jaded, tired young woman who can’t keep on in this direction all on my own. It’s not a direction worth pursuing as far as I can tell, but what is the alternative? It’s not like there’s some utopia to return to. Maybe there is a garden of eden on the horizon, but I haven’t the foggiest idea where it lay.
The more I think about it and as time ticks on, my life could and should be put to better use than this solo voyage to find ways to scrape by financially, pay and worry about bills, ultimately never knowing where I’ll wind up from month to month, year to year. My friends are so far away, scattered in various states, as are the family members I’m close to. In my dreams, we all live in one shared community where we can help one another and provide comfort and support in our times of need. But that will never happen. So I barreled off my own way in search of money, possessions, jobs, education and life skills, thinking I could be successful all on my own and maybe someday earn enough to share with my people. For a couple years there, it went as planned, but then my little bubble burst and I’m not sure how to put it back together again. It was a lie that you can and should do it all on your own – that you don’t need anyone but your own self and ingenuity.
Ten years ago I left home for the first time when I was 16 years old and got my first apartment, my GED, and went to work. It lasted for almost a year before the police forced me to return to live with adults (against the law to live alone at that age apparently), so I tried again a few months later when my then-fiancee and I headed north a few hours to attend college. Now he’s been gone since 2002 and I’ve been trekking alone northward and eastbound ever since. I’ve made some money along the way, paid some bills, bought some stuff, drove a nice vehicle, dined in some quaint restaurants, but at the end of the day, I still have to ask: what has it all been worth? And where exactly am I going? The goal all these years was just to finish this degree in hopes that it would unlock the door to other opportunities. Well, we’re almost there and those opportunities don’t look any different than the ones already available. Basically, work and escort on the side in order to get by so you can pay bills, buy more stuff, and continue living alone in a world of lonely people.
It just doesn’t make sense that this would be the American dream. The stuff, aside from my books and sentimental items, means nothing. The money is a means to an end in order to stay afloat and not lose the barely affordable shelter and vehicle. The vehicle is needed to go out and get more money. The shelter is where I place all my unneeded stuff. See how circular it all is?
Pointless.
In my thinking, what gives life real value are the people you meet along the way and share experiences with. But locked within this lifestyle, my options for spending time with people is limited. Clients are the primary lifeline, as stated, and dating is a cruel joke. The kind of men that date a woman in my position are almost invariably users, mistreaters, con artists, and wannabe pimps. So romance fades away as something out of bounds and unrealistic to pursue. Friendships are tough to come by, especially when you’re honest with people about who you are, what you do and why. Few care to dirty up their own reputations by affiliating with someone of the likes of you (which is such a crock of shit considering the dirty laundry of their own most try so hard to hide). And again, friends and family are many miles away in all directions. So what then?
I thought maybe a job would bring me a sense of purpose, but so far none has done so for an extended period of time. Again, jobs are intended to bring in money to perpetuate the cycle of what we call the American dream of buying and owning more shit than we need. Oh yes, expensive, nice shit to be sure. But still. A fur coat and purse brought me pleasure when I first bought them because they’re luxuries I never envisioned myself capable of having back then, but now they just take up room in a closet full of other crap I don’t need. So what good is a job if it doesn’t allow you to do something productive and of value?
Hopefully this stuff will fetch a decent price. Some of it. Maybe. Despite my smoking tobacco in the apartment. Either way, I’m coming to terms with myself being nothing more than a gerbil in a wheel, unconventional as my route may be, it’s not all that different from what so many other lonely people around me are doing, thinking that money will buy us a new shot at life. A fresh new start. Fresh new stuff. A freshly-painted apartment full of things we once cared about, things we bought thinking they might bring us some measure of comfort and stability. Happiness. Or, in the very least, contentment.
But money can’t buy love just as money can’t buy you peace. I get that now.
It needn’t be too depressing to move past this stage in life, right? It’s a step in the right direction to realize that the simple things and relationships with others mean so much more than anything money might buy.
They say the truth will set you free. I want a better life than the pursuit of money and an apartment full of stuff has to offer. And I will have it, one way or another, or I’ll die trying to find it.
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