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=   F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K.   =
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                And It Won't Make Any Difference
                --------------------------------

I don't know if I'll even send this message, but I figure I should at
least write some of this crap out so I can get some sleep.  Tomorrow is my
birthday.  Somehow, I didn't think my life would be this way at this age;
that there was going to be like this.  I expected more, but it didn't make
any difference.

Where's the family I was supposed to have by now?  Where's the two kids,
the mortgage, a loving spouse?  All I have is this empty house, two ex's,
and daily walks among strangers, none of whom I so much as exchange a word
with.  Where's this life I thought I was going to have?  It's like it's
all been slowly stripped away without my knowing, only to have myself
starkly reminded of it on this anniversary of my birth.  I expected more
than this, but it didn't make any difference. 

Some look at me and think me a success based on the work I do and the
knowledge and skills I possess.  In a way, I see myself as a success in
that realm. Yet isn't work supposed to be something you do so that you can
support a family, give the ones you love a decent life and leave a lasting
legacy for your children?  Isn't there supposed to be more to life than
merely doing one's job?  Isn't there?  And if there is, why don't I
deserve it?  I expected better, but that didn't make any difference. 

I really can't talk to anyone about this face to face.  At the very core
of all this, I feel ashamed.  Ashamed that, somehow, I've failed; that I
don't measure up; that I don't have what it takes.  And each day goes by,
taking with it the likelihood that I'll ever catch up.  And each passing
weekday of work eventually yields to the weekend and the quiet knowledge
that if I were to drop dead on a Friday evening, no-one would even know
until late Monday morning when I would fail to show up for work.  A
sobering reality, but one I know all too well.  I really expected more,
but that doesn't make any difference.

And counseling...*sigh*...more talk and no action.  I can't see myself
talking about this shit every day with someone I'd have to pay to listen
to me.  That seems an even greater insult than the hand already dealt to
me; that I'd have to pay someone to hear about my dreams unfulfilled and
expectations unmet, all in spite of my best efforts.  My heart would be no
lighter for the telling.  Indeed, the only thing that would get lighter
would be my wallet as I steadily drift toward age 40, then age 50, then
age 60, and so on.  I'd expect more, but it wouldn't make any difference.

I feel very old today.  And very alone.  Yet no one really cares to hear
that.  Feelings like that make people uncomfortable.  Life's difficult
enough without adding that to the mix.  So they wish me a 'Happy Birthday'
and I simply smile, shut up and carry on with my work.  I put in my time,
go home, feed my pets, exercise, go to bed, get up, repeat. I guess it's
things like that which drive most people to an early grave.

But I'll manage...I always do.  It's what's expected of me. 

And it won't make any difference.

- anonymous

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