Тонкое искусство пофигизма

           Itwassittingonmymom’scouchthatsummer,staringintotheso-calledabyss,seeingtheendlessandincomprehensiblenothingnesswhereJosh’sfriendshipusedtobe,whenIcametothestartlingrealizationthatiftherereallyisnoreasontodoanything,thenthereisalsonoreasontonotdoanything;thatinthefaceoftheinevitabilityofdeath,thereisnoreasontoevergiveintoone’sfearorembarrassmentorshame,sinceit’salljustabunchofnothinganyway;andthatbyspendingthemajorityofmyshortlifeavoidingwhatwaspainfulanduncomfortable,Ihadessentiallybeenavoidingbeingaliveatall.

           Thatsummer,Igaveuptheweedandthecigarettesandthevideogames.Igaveupmysillyrockstarfantasiesanddroppedoutofmusicschoolandsignedupforcollegecourses.Istartedgoingtothegymandlostabunchofweight.Imadenewfriends.Igotmyfirstgirlfriend.ForthefirsttimeinmylifeIactuallystudiedforclasses,gainingmethestartlingrealizationthatIcouldmakegoodgradesifonlyIgaveashit.Thenextsummer,Ichallengedmyselftoreadfiftynonfictionbooksinfiftydays,andthendidit.Thefollowingyear,Itransferredtoanexcellentuniversityontheothersideofthecountry,whereIexcelledforthefirsttime,bothacademicallyandsocially.

           Josh’sdeathmarkstheclearestbefore/afterpointIcanidentifyinmylife.Pre-tragedy,Iwasinhibited,unambitious,foreverobsessedandconfinedbywhatIimaginedtheworldmightbethinkingofme.