Who're you to call me failure ?
By Kristian Eilertsen

Remember when you were ten years old and dreamed of becomming an astronaut or a famous
football player, but then realised, that you're afraid of flying and that your right leg 
is twice as long as the left one ? It took you a couple of years to accept the fact, that
you're no infant prodigy, and now instead you're working nine to five at your local pizza 
parlour, where your obnoxious boss keeps reminding you not to butt your cigarette in the
dough. It's no dream job, but afterall it gives you time to smoke a lot of dope and play
your guitar. Which are basically the only things you end up knowing. 
	You know this wasn't exactly the life you had in mind when you were young and carefree
and had all the time in the world. You're beginning to realise, that maybe you're a failure. 
Thinking of your future makes you panic. You're starting to bear a faint resemblance to the 
town drunk you used to make fun of. You dropped out of highschool cuz you hated your teachers
and you just wanted to play your guitar. You didn't really care at the time, cuz you knew you 
were gonna become a famous rockstar. Afterall fame seemed to hit anyone who ever stepped into
a punkclub. But now a days, your future doesn't look so bright. Two weeks after you dropped 
out of highschool you finally realised how much your band sucked. Not that it really suprised
you, afterall no one had booked you for months and not even your mom liked the demotape you
put out. The ultimate lowpoint occured yesterday when your girlfriend left you on the phone
because she finds you disgusting and pathetic. Again you weren't really suprised. Afterall you
knew she'd been cheating on you for months. And mouthing off about it to your friends. You
know you're not a success. But who is ? You have a bagfull of broken dreams, your future is
an unsettled void and the bag which is supposed to contain hopes and dreams is empty. If 
someone calls you a loser, you say thanks. Afterall you know they're right. No need to argue.
Looking at your friends, you see nothing different. Nothing better. But nothing worse either. 
	As time ticks by you realise how pathetic you are. There are times where you feel like
even your dog is laughing at you. The only thing that keeps you up, is the fact that all 
your friends are doing just as bad as you. You only really feel alive at the punk-shows. 
Hanging out with other highschool dropouts and no-good losers makes you feel good. No one tells 
you what to do, no one patronizes you (except for the cute girl in the bar you always hit on 
when intoxication makes you sterry-eyed), and you feel at home. In the beginning something 
inside you screamed out for more. But now a days you've repressed your broken dreams, but 
every now and then you feel the empty pit in your stomack. What would have happened if you'd
graduated from highschool ? Then you'd have gone to college instead of working in that stupid
pizza parlour. You quickly jump to the conclusion, that school wouldn't have helped you anyway.
It was evil and they would have flunked you no matter what. Not that you're bitter. Afterall 
you hated school. You know dropping out was the best thing for you. Of course it was... Still 
you feel insuffucient. The older you get, the more you feel like you're burning out. Your 
decay is inevitable. It's the decay you chose yourself. 
	I read your story, I wrote your story and I wrote my own story. Fictious, yes. Far-fetched,
I guess not. Not that I know you. But I know myself. Not unconditioned, but I know what I am, 
and I know how I'll end up, if I follow this path. Then why did I write this ? To tell you to
get yourself together before it's too late ? To patronize you because I'm a stuck up know-it-all
asshole ? Think what you like, but frankly I don't really care about you. If you fail, it'll
make me look better. So please do. Just don't pull me down with you. I make my own choices. 
Most of the time I make the wrong ones. But still the ones that are the most exciting. The ones
that'll get me into the soup. The ones that'll make me fuck up in the end. The ones that'll
make me kick myself when the fun is over. I don't know why I do it. Beats me. But now time has 
come again. It's time to make a choice. But this is one I have to make before I turn down a 
dead end road. I look at the highschool dropout note I'm holding in my hands. I take a resolute 
pull at the coffemug. In you I see myself. In one sudden move, I rip up the little white note. 
I tell myself to give it another week. I don't wanna be like you.

	 Send death threats, marriage proposals and declarations of love to:
		Kristian Eilertsen, Eiler99@hotmail.com