Let me correct myself. I am a misanthrope, despite what I might have suggested earlier. While I still think I hate myself, clearly I hate several of you more. And it’s not that you’re bad people. I’m sure several of you are good at heart, but you’re all just very annoying. Humanity is annoying. Hell, I’m annoying. I’ll admit that. I’m too old to be whining like a high school bitch, but that’s what I do best. Whine about the way things are and sit in front of my computer an do nothing to fix the world. Truth is, the world doesn’t want fixing. Fixing what we broke is far too hard, so we’d rather just break and fuck shit up and hope that somehow the physics of Futurama – or K-Pax – works out.

Life’s turning out to be less like an Offspring song and more like something from Placebo or Eels. Maybe even an Everclear – “oh well, so much for the afterglow.” This weekend happened to be the ten-year anniversary celebration for the class of 2001 – are these things even supposed to be this earlier, by the way, or am I missing something entirely? Because considering that this year only marks the anniversary of the beginning of our final year in high school – and I partook in the activities the exact way I would’ve in high school: By not partaking at all.

Instead, I spent the weekend reading The Stand by Stephen King, watching movies and picking up the fourth season of Weeds at Target because it was on sale and I deserve materialistic items. I’ll admit that curiosity got the best of me, so I stalked the reunion’s Facebook page and caught up with my old class chums in a way I’m most comfortable with. Two things became clear to me automatically. The first, while I might have gained a lot of weight since high school, some of these  people have become complete and total fat-asses (thank you karma!).

 

*like this one

 

Second, and probably the most important, thing I noticed was skimming through the “memory” photos. First of all, I wasn’t in them. Secondly, neither were any of my friends*. That’s not much of a surprise considering that my friends in high school were the type who hated everyone. Isn’t strange how misanthropic people can tolerate each other, but not the rest of the world? Still, as I’m looking at these pictures, I get the sense that I missed something. Maybe something vital. I can’t get my head around the idea. I just begin to self-doubt, pushing thought after thought that maybe the reason I’m so bitter about the whole reunion thing is because in the last ten years, the only thing that’s changed about me is my age.

I’m beginning to think I’m Dante, stuck in his place because he doesn’t allow himself any growth. But if I’m Dante, who the fuck is my Randal, and where the fuck is my Jay and Silent Bob to cope with these insane ideas? Well, really, I just need Silent Bob as Jay isn’t much help in any of the situations. In the movies, anyway. I’m certain Jason Mewes is an awesome guy.

But it isn’t just my age that’s changed; that idea is too unfair. There was also a girlfriend change – a joke I didn’t make, but Jyg did. The fact that I managed to survive college and earn a degree – which hangs uselessly above my philosophy book shelf. My friends are still very awesome, even though I can count them with one hand. But that’s just me; I’ve never been a big fan of friends.

Come to think of it, life isn’t like a Placebo song. Or something penned by Eels or Everclear. It’s more of a Smashing Pumpkins’ song. The old Smashing Pumpkins, not that new shit that’s being passed off as Smashing Pumpkins. Sorry, Corgan, but retire the name before you drag it even deeper into the muck.

Fuck it, life is just life. It’s not a song. It’s not a story. It’s a series of miscalculations and misadventures with bouts of happiness here and there. Am I right? And before you wonder, the whole realizing I am a misanthrope has nothing to do with the reunion. It had to do with a very horrible shopping experience. People. What a bunch of bastards.

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