by James M. Gibbs
I feel like a light bulb that has burned as brightly as it could for as long as it could. I’ve taken just about as much as I can stand out of life. 40 hours of school per week, 20 hours of studying and homework, another 40 hours of delivering pizza. I’m just so tired. And the hard times are supposedly yet to come. I’ll never make it. I don’t have the strength or the will. I’m burned out.
I remember each semester I would start out strong, waver at mid-semester and pick myself up at the end. Now, I don’t believe I’ll be able to climb out of this hole. It’s been dug too deep.
I was speaking with a friend of mine who attends Ouachita Baptist University. I mentioned the thought of dropping all my classes. He told me to stick with it. He said, “That little piece of paper they give you (diploma) makes this meaningless life a little more meaningful.” Maybe it does. But is it worth the cost? At this moment I feel like so much fecal matter and I don’t think I’ll feel better tomorrow. My body is tired. My brain is tired. I take that back. My brain deserted this sinking ship days ago. I’m slowly being transformed into a walking vegetable.
Recently, I had the chance to visit another friend who attends Texas A & M. I had an extremely fun and memorable weekend there.
I met this girl named Lori. I know what everyone is thinking but we have the same last name. She could be a cousin of mine or something. She is also lightly involved with my friend. Meeting her to me was instant friendship. Her mere presence, her personality, gave me a feeling like I had a chance in life. I have no idea why. I figure it might be because I saw someone of equal surname being successful at a major university. I don’t know.
Anyhow, I held on to this strong feeling of optimism for two or three days after my return to Texarkana. A week later, however, the beloved optimism waned and died. I fault not Lori, I fault myself for not being able to hold on to it.
That more or less brings me up to where I am today, a burned-out shell of a man, watching lifelong dreams dissipate with tired eyes.
I’ve taken a lot of mental abuse over the years. My brain, shortly before it skipped out on me, was screaming at me for a vacation but who has the time. I’m talking about a real vacation. No weekend in College Station, but about a month on a desert island.
I’m sure of one thing. If Abraham Lincoln were to somehow come back from the dead and once again give the immortal Gettysburg Address, there would be a minor change. He would end with, “of the thin, for the thin, by the thin.”
So, if my name isn’t on this column when the next paper comes out or those who know me notice I’ve mysteriously disappeared into some unknown nether region, all my mail will probably be forwarded straight to Pinewood Hospital. Yes, I’ll be relaxing and letting all stress and tension pour out of me in the calm hillside forest near the rolling grassy plains of Texarkana…maybe not.
Well, and I know that’s a deep subject, I appreciate your time and patience while I rant and rave of my expedition through pitiless life. I appreciate the time taken to sift through my therapy sessions also known as the campus column. Great awards await in heaven for my readers.
So go home and give thanks for what you have. My rebellious backward brain deprives me of that apparently by long distance. I’ll probably get the bill. And don’t worry about me. In a week, I’ll have forgotten all of this…maybe not.
Once again, thanks.