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Inquietus

Preface:

             I have one distinct memory that stands out, well, how like a distinct memory should, from when I was in early elementary school. It was first grade, I believe (maybe it was second, but I’m fairly sure it was first – I guess it’s not so distinct after all), and I DISLIKED writing so much that I copied a paragraph of another student’s creative writing – whatever the heck creative writing was at that age – and got into “trouble” when caught by my teacher.

             I was going to start this preface with the statement: ever since I can remember, I’ve enjoyed writing. But then, clearly, I haven’t always enjoyed writing.

             Nonetheless, ever since I can remember, at a certain but not specific point in my life, I have liked to write. And depending on who you ask, I’m somewhat decent at it (debatable). But my friends are just being nice… or are liars.

             So I wrote in middle school and high school, lots of what I assume were shitty lyrics, along with a fake episode of Family Guy (that I do think was actually pretty decent), and then I progressed into some longer Onion-esque articles that either never made it past a college-ruled notebook (1: what are those; 2: college > wide) or were posted to MySpace (which brings me to again 1: what is that, and 2: MySpace > Facebook). (But in all reality, some lived on a now-defunct computer, and I think something about Charlie Sheen getting paid in cocaine for Two and a Half Men did find its home in my Facebook notes when Facebook notes were still used and when Facebook was thankfully used by much less of the population. What a shit site it has become, worse than Charlie Sheen’s downfall, that is for sure.)

             In both middle school and high school, I also wrote for the school newspaper. I helped produce most of the lit mag when I was ~16, and I participated in a college-based journalism program in the summer of 2007.

             Then, when I got to college, I realized how little time I had to dedicate to anything that wasn’t partying (partying is was everything, duh), and put my hobbies aside to occasionally study and not-so-occasionally party. I did write one piece for a college humor website (disclaimer: not CollegeHumor), which was a cool, fun thing to do. Posted it on my Facebook, and one of my friends suggested I post it to the site, and it got published.

             Fast forward to about 10 months after grad school graduation and 6 months into a corporate career (yay), I found myself growing disillusioned with the post-grad young professional life, as many post-grad young professionals probably do. I’ll spare you the jokes about a 24-year-old’s quarter life crisis. 96 years sounds pretty long anyway.

             And so I found myself posting a few things to Facebook again, which led to me getting a few more posts published on another site, which was cool.

             Simultaneously, I started a story about a girl named Kaitlin, who had moved to New York after college and, too, was becoming discontent with life. (This was before I had intentions of moving to New York… but the discontent, oh the discontent was and still is to an extent real.)

             Within a few months, I had written over 20,000 words, which is approximately 80-100 pages in a book. With gauging where I was at in the story, I was probably about 20-25% complete with the story I wanted to tell.

             That was almost five years ago.

             I have tried to revisit The Restless multiple times since, and I have failed to do so each time. I’ve even started this writepostcreate.com site and written a number of shorter pieces and one longer piece for it, but I just haven’t been able to restart what I once quit, even though I love the story so much. I love the story, and I know bits and pieces of what I want to happen in it, but I can’t map it out, and much like Kaitlin’s life, I can’t figure out how to get there – although in this case, I do know what “there” is.

             So, without further self-aggrandizing and rambling adieu (722 words of nonsense, not counting what is in these parentheses), I will end the preface to this incomplete story with my favorite passage I have ever written.

             “If you could be God for a day, what would you do?”

             Kaitlin watched as James firmly picked up the bottle of wine and gracefully poured the dark red liquid into her clear crystal glass. While the liquid flowed from one home to another, she looked through it as its concentration separated in the air, suspending the normally opaque color just enough to allow her to see through to the other side. She longed for this ability, and for it to stay like this forever. A picture-perfect moment, tranquil transparency captured in midair. No rush of movement, only stillness. No uncertainty, solely the knowledge of what has happened, what is happening, and what will happen. In this tiny little moment, Kaitlin had the answers. But as quickly as the clarity came, it closed, falling over itself, the red fluid cascading into its near-final destination, and she could no longer see through to the other side. The wine had been grown for months from fruits in France, packaged into glass bottles, and shipped 4,800 miles to reach its final resting place in Kaitlin’s stomach.

             She lent in closer, moved her head forward, and made direct eye contact with James. She earnestly said to him, “I would go back in time and never create humans. I would go back to the Garden, before the serpent, before the concentration camps, before the Czars, before Napoleon, before Pontius Pilate sentenced Jesus Christ, before Picasso made any of his paintings, before Galileo made any of his discoveries, before Rome was built, before the Epics of the Iliad and the Odyssey were written, before man decided he had the right to destroy the earth that was given to him while destroying his neighbor and therefore himself, before Adam’s rib was taken to make Eve, I would not take my own to make Adam.”

Chapter 1:

When workers run softly along the current streams

Quiet footsteps fade quickly into quiet dreams

As gentle air grows thin and hopeful light draws dim

Heaving chests and sinking breaths start to reign supreme

A fulfilling life slowly becomes an afterthought

An empty life is not the one that was sought

Feet aground, hands working, grab ahold the knot

Feet dangle, hands praying only it stays taut

             Kaitlin crumpled up a piece of mostly blank paper, with the exception of a few scratched out words and these eight lines. She took upon this task with a great, fabricated effort, as if the weightless, inanimate object was putting up a fight equivalent to the strength and size of its wooden ancestors. She was frustrated with the lack of creativity that had manifested in herself, that had developed with maturity, with responsibility, and with age. When she was younger, she had the ability to conjure up the wildest places, imagine the craziest people, and tell the most vivid stories. Now, at 25, she struggles to write eight lines of sub-par poetry that only she will ever lay her eyes upon.

             Kaitlin opens the door of her York Avenue apartment. At $2,200 a month, her rent is less than ideal, but it could still be worse. The chilly and windy early afternoon air meets her speciously cheerful face as she exits the small apartment. The warm shine of the sun provides temporary relief but will only be available for a limited number of hours on this November day.

             Normally Kaitlin tries not to work on Saturdays, but as deadlines approach, relaxation and recreation fade as quickly as the sun into gray winter skies. Kaitlin works as a Senior Financial Analyst for ACT First Solutions, a large financial services firm located in the Financial District. As a teenager, she had aspirations of becoming a journalist – first starting as a reporter working graveyard hours and unnoteworthy stories, then eventually working her way up to syndicated pieces that interested and invigorated people – that made a difference.

             Kaitlin’s upcoming deadline is not one of ink and expression. Her firm is in the process of finalizing the updated budget for its sales division for the second quarter of the coming fiscal year. The budget was supposed to be completed by now, but through forces outside of Kaitlin’s control – unavailable stakeholders, uncooperative coworkers, unrealistic expectations – resolution still escaped her team. But did it really matter to her? After all, weren’t the delays caused by external factors and wouldn’t the blame ultimately fall on her manager and not transparently trickle down to her?

             Kaitlin steps onto the light beige sidewalk in front of her regency-styled apartment of the same color. At half past 12 in the morning, she’s getting a much later start to her day than she had planned to. She had hoped to be in the office before 10, but the allure of a night drinking with friends and the associated innocent deviance that comes with had drawn her in on a bored Friday night.

             She woke up at 11:07am, according to her alarm clock. Her second confusion, after truly coming to consciousness and actually realizing the time, was the location of her phone. Usually it acted as her alarm, but on a hungover, foggy morning, it was nowhere in sight. Kaitlin concluded that it probably wasn’t even on, if it was even in her little one bedroom flat. She hoped it was, at least. She placed her neatly manicured hands over her tightly closed eyes and pressed against her slightly congested forehead.

             “This is hell,” she thought, although she knew it wasn’t the worst hell she had experienced. For a moment she lied on her back, contemplated life, wondered if she remembered everything she did the previous night, everything she drank. She slid her tanned-turning-pale, toned body to the side, her soft skin wrapped in the silver microfiber sheets.

             “Fuck it, time to get up,” she acquiesced in her mind. She begrudgingly slipped out of her comfortable cocoon and gradually rose upright.

             “Next steps… Next steps…” her thoughts stumbled more than her feet. Kaitlin continued to talk to herself as she searched her unkempt room for her phone. Within two long minutes, her endeavor proved successful and earlier thought correct: her phone had died… at some point in the night, although she didn’t remember when. Her next steps were to her charger. Kaitlin pressed a rubber button on the right side of her cell phone case. The screen illuminated with the manufacturer logo and then her home screen.

             “Time to discover the truth,” she jokingly said to herself. Kaitlin knew that the damage she did the night prior wasn’t that bad, relatively speaking, of course. She got the dumb decisions, embarrassing moments, and drunk texts out of her system while in college, a falsity she was so easy to take for the truth. Kaitlin unlocked her phone and navigated to her messages.

             “Honestly, this isn’t so bad,” Kaitlin wholeheartedly declared to herself. She slid her finger across the glass screen, scrolling through conversations from the night before.

             “Where are you?” one of her last messages read. 1:37 AM.

             “Where was I and what was I doing at 1:37 in the morning?”

             At 5:15am Friday morning, Kaitlin’s phone pulled her from the embrace of enchanted dreams back into the grip of the real world. With 2 hours and 15 minutes before she needed to be in the office, she had given herself time for an early morning workout. Still, she wondered of the pleasures nine more minutes of sleep could give her and debated the costs versus the benefits of a little bit of extra escape. She struggled with the concept of losing sleep to spend 45-50 minutes on calisthenics, but she knew that afterwards the exercise would be worth it mentally, emotionally, and physically, and that it was necessary for her to be okay with what she saw in the mirror. Post-ponderment and deliberation, she concluded it was time to get up, even prior to the nine-minute alarm. In a hesitant but effortless fashion, Kaitlin climbed from her worn full-size fortress and slid into a pair of black compression leggings and a matching Dri-Fit pullover.

             Her 16-story apartment complex had a reasonably sized gym. The weights were new enough to be modern but old enough to show rust. When Kaitlin arrived at the first-floor entrance at 5:31am, she found the dumbbells strewn across the floor carelessly by the last souls to occupy the territory; this, however, didn’t matter, as today she was focusing on cardio only. She was surprised she had the space to herself. This little knowledge was exciting because it created a judgement-free zone, where she wouldn’t have to be concerned if her aerobic movements looked peculiar or worried if she wanted to take the occasional glimpse in the mirror to admire her reflection.

             When six o’clock crept up, Kaitlin again found herself combatting an internal struggle, pitting two diverging options against each other, constrained by time. As each moment, minute, second ticked by, she was running further into the probability of being late to work. At first, she figured she could sacrifice looking stunning at work. Then simply beautiful. Then merely pretty. And now only average. She couldn’t let herself fair any further, so she finished her last circuit and retreated to the elevator, to whisk her up 14 floors to her room, to give her enough time to look only average.

             Kaitlin threw her workout clothes aside and showered and dressed in her routine manner. She achieved these objectives quicker than she predicted, but still could not escape the feeling that she was running late. In her bathroom drawer, she reached for foundation, followed by concealer. Then she applied a small amount of eye shadow, followed by a light touch of eyeliner. Next was mascara. And last was soft, neutral lipstick. Before she grabbed a Greek yogurt and walked out her door at 6:39am, she took the time to inspect herself in front of her full-length mirror and admitted to herself, “Yeah, I could pass for stunning today,” if only to make herself feel better.

             Kaitlin made her way to 77^th Street and Lexington Avenue and began her ride to work. Contained within the train was a myriad of people. Some male, some female. Some younger, some older. And some executive, some homeless. Kaitlin looked at a girl around her same age and silently screamed envy with her eyes. The girl was taller, prettier, and wearing a better fitting, looking, and put-together suit than Kaitlin. Kaitlin quickly averted her jealous glare to an older woman, likely in her mid-40s. She wasn’t dressed as well, didn’t spend as much time on her makeup, and age was beginning to take its course on her skin. Kaitlin gleefully smiled at the comparison, and then shamefully questioned her moral integrity.

             “Wait, why am I happy she’s not pretty?”

             Her sick pleasure soon became an afterthought, however, when she noticed a tall, handsome, dark-haired man with a purposely, neatly trimmed five o’clock shadow and a blue blazer and off-white button down that spelled suave. Again she stared, but this time out of desire, not envy.

             With a bump in the ride, Kaitlin’s mind jumped to the 10+ hours ahead of her.

             “I need 5:30 to come around as quickly as possible… if I can get out that early.”

             She knew it’d be a hectic morning succeeded by a stressful afternoon, filled with meetings that would keep her from executing her work and with work that was piling up into to-dos and falling down behind deadlines. There was no escape for Kaitlin. Not tonight, at least, because she had to work Saturday.

             “I’ll just take it easy tonight. Have a glass of wine, read, and go to sleep early… then wake up early, ready for tomorrow.” Maybe Saturday night she’d have her getaway.

             The train arrived at Kaitlin’s stop, Wall Street, at 7:27am. Kaitlin emerged from the subway, and walked south on Broadway toward the end of Fi-Di. Although she knew it wouldn’t truly make a difference if she was a minute or two late – or a minute or two early, for that matter – she still walked in a rush to get to her destination. Kaitlin moved invisibly through the horde of creatures herding to their glamorous corner offices and work-your-way-up-through-the-company cubes. Although cold, it was sunny, and although sunny, her shadow had no room to cast itself upon the ground. She noticed an unattractively average guy in his late 20s staring at her. She enjoyed the attention, but scoffed at her admirer’s appearance, dismissing him as below her standards.

             “He’s probably a nice guy, but I’d only consider it if I were ugly.”

             A 42-floor building presented itself in front of Kaitlin. Its blue glass exterior reflected the morning skies, leaving an imprint of the surrounding clouds. Kaitlin walked in through two of the large doors located at the entrance to the lobby.

             “7:31am. Here goes nothing.”

             She made her way to the elevator and pushed the round, raised button to go up. A bell rang, and the doors opened. Immediately the elevator’s surface area was swallowed up, assembling a density of people that would make the least claustrophobic person cringe.

             “I need to get out of here.”

             Three stops and 24 floors later, the elevator doors opened to the ACT First Solutions lobby. No longer packed into a small elevator, Kaitlin was now packed into a large office. The floor was already loud; it had already awoken to become a living, breathing entity. Kaitlin navigated through the halls to her team’s bull pen and to her shared table space.

             Kaitlin pulled out her company-issued laptop, placed it on the table, and took her seat. She proceeded to check her inbox to see the damage that occurred since she was last online at 11pm the night before. 12-emails, only, and three meeting invites, one in less than 90 minutes, at 9am, right after her 8:30 and just before her 10 o’clock.

             After either responding to or deleting the other nine e-mails, it was finally time to get to work. Kaitlin spent the first couple of minutes checking her Facebook, her Twitter, and her Instagram, and was in the middle of viewing stories of her friends’ evenings when she realized that, in a rush to get to work, she forgot her morning venti iced vanilla latte. She thought about her options, knowing full well she would have to settle for a French hazelnut K cup in the break room.

             Before she actually executed any of her work, it was time for her first meeting of the day. She sat through it, not needing to participate, pretending to be at attention, secretly daydreaming of all the other places she could be. Her remaining awareness clued into buzzwords, signaling her to nod her head in feigned agreeance. “Circle back… Optimize… Reach out… Leverage… Low hanging fruit… Smarketing… Boiler plate… White paper… Dashboard… Slide deck…” Internally, she rolled her eyes, but externally, her blues flashed, “I understand. That sounds great. Let me get started on that now.”

             Back to work.

             Kaitlin was busily inputting data into an Excel Spreadsheet, hoping the formulas would hold true and produce reasonable output, when she heard the looming tone of her Department’s Director’s voice.

             “Kaitlin. Can I speak to you for a minute?”

             Kaitlin’s mind shouted, “Fuck,” but the words that parted from her lips were, “Yes, sir.” She followed her Director’s footsteps into his office. At this point in his career, he had earned a windowless room across from the glass-paned offices, close enough to see the sun but still too far to reach it.

             “Kaitlin, do you know why you’re in here?” Her Director inquired rhetorically.

             “No, sir,” Kaitlin retorted the opposite of her previous response, first looking at the name plate on his desk before looking at him. ‘David Warner’.

             David condescendingly explained, “What’s going on? Your manager and your peers have given you nothing but praise – good evaluation scores, good review comments. But now that deadlines are approaching, your performance is slipping. Is there some reason you can’t handle the pressure?”

             Kaitlin folded.

             “I completely understand what you’re saying and absolutely agree about my performance. I’m sorry. I’ll try harder. Thanks for your advice and support.” Looking at the script sliding through Kaitlin’s teeth, no one would be able to tell the words were ingenuous. Inside her body, fury raged. She felt disappointment, anger, anxiety, and stress. She wanted to clinch her fists, but her hands broke down.  Defeated, she left the room in a charade of confidence, her expressions just a disguise.

             Some execution, another meeting, and some more execution later, it was time for lunch. At 11:30am sharp, Kaitlin and a group of four similarly aged coworkers made their journey to Trading Post. Although the venue was based on the decision to get sandwiches, Kaitlin knew she was going to order a quinoa salad, and they all knew that they were going to get drinks – just one or two to take the edge off. They usually resolved to imbibe under happier pretenses, but the pressure left them no choice in their own minds. Just one or two drinks later, with a side of food and a coffee to go, the five returned to work.

             At 12:50pm, Kaitlin was back at her desk, counting down the hours until she could leave her entrapment, fully aware of the fact that she still had too much work to accurately hypothesize how long it would take to actually complete. In a futile effort, she told herself she’d leave at six.

             In the span of five hours and 10 minutes, Kaitlin completed 2.5 hours of productive work. With her intelligence, this level of productivity was adequate. She didn’t have to work any harder or any less, since she had to be there till a predetermined time anyway, set by her boss, by her company, and by society. If she wasn’t so tired, the word “arbitrary” would’ve made an appearance in her vocabulary.

             It was six o’clock, and although Kaitlin’s attention was fading, she felt obligated to stay longer, out of a misplaced notion that her boss would perceive her as a hard worker if she stayed late. Her immediate coworkers shared the same sentiment, and in an attempt to appear hard at work, a team of six 20-somethings started instant messaging each other. The main topic of discussion was what time they were leaving, and where they were going that night.

             When the day began, Kaitlin had no intentions of going out after work. A night of red wine and a good book were supposed to suffice for relief and entertainment, but now, as her coworkers were discussing plans for the evening, the temptation to ditch her original plans grew. The first sip of a hard-earned gin and tonic was becoming more and more enticing.  The thought of having fun, seeing friends, being out – shutting off her mind – appealed to her inner youth. The temporary escape in forgetting her responsibilities and obligations flourished in her thoughts. She knew the feeling would be fleeting, and she knew she’d be better off spending the night in, but the idea of four-plus hours out convinced her to go against her gut instinct and act on excited impulse, as if this was her only choice. She needed no persuasion from her coworkers.

             “So, what’s the game plan for tonight?”

             “Getting the fuck outta here. Wait, can I say that on Skype?”

             “Do you think anyone actually checks the logs of what we say on here?”

             “Naw, but better safe than sorry, ya know.”

             “Anyway… Where do we want to go? Stay around here? East Village? West Village? Soho? Venture to Brooklyn?”

             “Anywhere there’s alcohol.”

             “So, the usual spot at 8:30?”

             “Penrose, it is.”

             In undeclared unison, the group rose from their seats, packed their bags, and headed for the door. Kaitlin was going out that night.

             Kaitlin arrived home a little after 7:05pm. She had a little under an hour and a half to sit down and engage in mindless activities, such as browsing the Internet while watching TV, before deciding her outfit and getting dressed.

             Kaitlin removed her tan Steve Madden dress heels and rested her legs on her black Ikea coffee table. She reached for the remote and turned on the television; E! was the first channel that popped up, and the destination she sought to land on. She didn’t particularly like any of the programming that actually aired on the channel – in fact, she loathed some of it, but she needed background noise in the otherwise stillness of her apartment, save the few noises from the street that drifted up 14 stories and infiltrated her peace, and in this sense, it was the best channel.

             She then unlocked her tablet and opened its web browser. She allotted herself a flexible 15 minutes to skim clumsily written news articles and recycled memes. What lasting fulfillment this brief entertainment provided, she did not know, but it offered the quick distraction she so desired. When she felt inconceivably content with her modern-day musings, she got up from her depths and purposefully made her way to her closet.

             “Hmm, what should I wear tonight?” Kaitlin asked herself. Although she’d been out a hundred times before – so much that it had grown passé – she still felt excitement for the evening – as if this time would be new or different – such that she wanted to go out dressed to impress. She wanted to look good in front of her coworkers, her friends, and strangers. After all, what if she met someone, was interested in them, and wished to hook up? Or an acquaintance she currently finds attractive newly finds her attractive? Or maybe her coworkers would take her more seriously, and potentially her friends would think more highly of her, based on her looks and her clothes. These ideas seduced her into the need to present a captivating appearance. In her head, from all aspects, it was settled: she had to look her best, to feel her best, to play her best. She knew she was reasonably appealing, but she wanted to be undeniably stunning.

             She already had an outfit in mind; nonetheless she tried on multiple arrangements in meticulous fashion. Time was running out to finish getting ready, but she didn’t mind, since there was no penalty for being late to a night out, nor was there a reward for being early, except less time ‘til indulgence.

             “For once I don’t need to be in a rush,” Kaitlin happily thought to herself. “Although I’m actually excited to get ready right now, when I’m going to a bar… not so much when I’m going to work.”

             Kaitlin placed a black, polyester, split back top, a khaki, bengaline, skinny pant, and a pair of black, leather, low-cut boots at the foot of her bed. Then she showered, dressed, and put on her makeup. At 8:35, she finished getting ready. She opened a transit app on her phone, and within seconds, a driver was en route to her address. She closed her apartment door, took the elevator down to the first floor, and exited the building.

             “Hey, thanks for the ride,” Kaitlin said to her driver as she stepped into his car, hoping he wouldn’t be the single-serving friend of the small-talk type.

             “You’re welcome,” the gentleman replied back. Luckily for Kaitlin, these would be the last words the two exchanged, with the exception of polite salutations at the end of the ride.

             The driver of the vehicle was in his mid-to-late 30s. Although Kaitlin didn’t want to get caught awkwardly turning her head perpendicularly to the left to get a better view, she could tell he was tan-skinned, although not entirely sure of his race, and likely divorced, judging by his disheveled, unshaved, untucked image. His vehicle was an old, rusting sedan, whose cheapness combined with many northeastern winters had begun to take its toll.

             Kaitlin’s mind drifted to thoughts of the day just passed, the night ahead, and the life that lie before her. The thoughts then led into fantasies of drinks she would take, conversations she would have, and guys she would meet.

             “I could totally meet someone at Penrose around 10pm. Maybe we’d play coy for a bit. Just a kiss tonight. A date later. He probably works in management consulting. We’ll go on some more dates, maybe some trips. In a couple years, when we’re serious, we’ll leave the City, and I’ll switch companies, even jobs. By 28, we’ll get engaged. By 30, married. And 32, kids. But not until we see the world.”

             “Yeah, fuck you, too!” The words made their way from the city streets to the inside of the Uber, and Kaitlin snapped out of her fantasy. She looked around but could not pinpoint the culprit, as if no person truly said those words, but instead, reality wanted to make its voice heard.

             The Uber traversed past the intersection of East 83^rd Street and 2^nd Avenue and pulled to a stop. Kaitlin thanked the driver for the ride and departed from the vehicle at 8:55pm. She texted her friends to get their location within the bar, walked in, and undertook finding their table herself.

             Within a minute, she was greeted with, “Hey, Girl! How are you? We just got here and found an open table.” Kaitlin’s coworker, Lauren, gave her a hug, along with the other two friends there, still waiting on three more to arrive.

             Lauren was 24 years old, brown hair with brown eyes, and recently started her career with ACT, fresh out of college at NYU. Lauren was accompanied by two other ACT employees: Ethan, 27 years old, a Virginia native with a stern face and sarcastic humor, and Megan, 23 years old, a Florida girl with bubbly blonde hair and a personality to match it.

             The four sat down after their hellos, and Kaitlin ordered her first drink of the night from their table’s server, an attractive, dark-haired vixen in her late 20s, who the group recognized from their prior times at Penrose, and whose edgy but modest look Kaitlin particularly fancied in an odd manner. Her drink of choice to begin the weekend – with the knowledge of having to work the next day neatly tucked away in her brain – a gin and tonic. The liquor to comprise the concoction was New Amsterdam because, although she wished to drink something better than wells, she wasn’t wealthy, yet. One day she’d be able to afford the Johnnie Walker Blue Labels and Gran Patrón Platinums of the world without second thought, a hope she held onto to keep her herself moving but a belief that trapped her into a job, a career, a company, an industry, a life that she had second thoughts about.

             “Who else is excited to go into the office tomorrow?” Ethan asked rhetorically, already cognizant of the displeased responses he would receive.

             The whole table agreed when Kaitlin replied, “Let’s just not talk about work tonight.”

             “So, what exciting plans do you have for the holidays?” Megan asked sincerely, looking in Lauren’s direction.

             “I’m going to Iceland for a week with a couple of friends. I’m pretty excited. We got really good deals on airfare, so we figured, ‘Why not?’”

             Kaitlin strained a smile, happy for Lauren, but inwardly jealous of her plans. Why wasn’t she doing anything “fun” over the holidays?

             Kaitlin’s server returned with her drink, and she eagerly took her first sip of the night. The mixture tasted refreshing from the first moment it slid from the clear, cold cocktail glass to her subservient, waiting mouth.

             After about 30 minutes of conversation, the group was joined by the first, then the second, and last the third friend, all of whose, “I’ll be there in five minutes,” were truthfully, “I’m leaving my apartment in ten minutes.” Jack was 28, career-driven, and already a manager at the company. His coworkers considered him a kiss-ass but let him hang around because it was easier than telling him to get lost. Sarah was 26, mediocre as a marketing specialist, and quiet as a person. Other than another friend to hang out with outside of work, she didn’t bring much to the table. Alex was the same age as Kaitlin, exceptionally good at his job, and exceptionally dissatisfied with his job. Kaitlin saw a lot of similarities between herself and him, and viewed him as one of her good friends, outside of just being coworkers essentially forced to socialize due to ease and familiarity – not that Kaitlin didn’t think of some of her supporting cast as “friends”.

             “What took you assholes so long?” Ethan inquisitively inquired.

             “Sorry, I got caught up working late, ya know, like you all should have been doing. Deadlines, ya know?” –Jack

             “I totally lost track of time once I got home. My bad.” –Sarah

             “Hah, we don’t need any apologies. Was just wondering,” Ethan responded. “What about you, Alex?”

             “Eh, I honestly don’t have an excuse. I was late because chilling at home for a few minutes just felt so good, I didn’t want to get ready. But since we’re all here now, I’m going to change the subject: Have we ordered shots yet?”

             “No, but let’s have at it!” Megan enthusiastically cheered, acting as the spokesperson of the group.

             After some jovial debate, the table settled on a round of picklebacks. $8.50 a shot and 7 shots later, the rye whiskey and pickle brine mixture was consumed, and the night was just starting to begin.

             At 10:05pm, Kaitlin knew things were about to get interesting. She tried her best not to think of going into work on a Saturday, but she remained acutely aware of this dredging responsibility. Nonetheless, her drink was now completely empty, and it was time for another one.

             “Are we heading somewhere else soon, or should I grab another drink?” Kaitlin asked the group.

             “Umm, how about Drexler’s?”

             “Works for me.”

             “Works for me, too.”

             “Alright, cool, I’ve got a couple of friends there right now.”

             “Let’s get our checks and go.”

             The group hailed two cabs and left the Upper East Side bound for the East Village. By the time the seven arrived, it was nearing 11. They packed into the restaurant, and then they crowded around the bar. Kaitlin was ready to add a third drink to her evening repertoire.

             The bar was dimly lit and quietly loud, providing a tidy contrast in the lively but intimate ambiance. The renovated interior and vintage decorations lent themselves to the impression of the New Orleans French Quarter. From the basement, the sounds of bass echoed up the stairs. A warm sense of intoxication began to spread through Kaitlin’s body.

             Eventually members of the original seven headed their own way: to other parts of the bar, to other bars, to see friends, to hit on strangers, and to partake in celebrated inebriation. Kaitlin, Lauren, and Alex were still together when Lauren’s friends eventually made their way to the trio’s territory. Three guys and one girl introduced themselves, but she didn’t pay any attention to who they were because she didn’t figure she’d ever talk to them again, except for one. Immediately, Kaitlin was intrigued by one of the guys. The prolonged eye contact, playful humor, and natural smiles indicated interest. Kaitlin finished the drink she was holding at the time, a Red Bull vodka. Past the initial conversation, it was time for close isolation. The two headed to the bar to order more drinks.

             Mark asked, “So what type of shot do you want?”

             “Hmm…” Kaitlin was trying to think of the correct answer, if there was one, while trying to look cute, biting her lip while thinking. Her thoughts seemed to last an eternity, but in reality she proclaimed her decision in a couple of seconds.

             “Uh,” Kaitlin’s eyes looked up towards the ceiling. “Let’s go with water moccasins,” Kaitlin’s sight returning to Mark’s eyes to see his response.

             “Water moccasins, it is,” he replied.

             Kaitlin was returning to whiskey, specifically Crown, for this shot, knowing that it’s not good to mix too many liquors in one night, and knowing that she already mixed three. The spirits continued their takeover of Kaitlin’s body.

             She was growing more romanticized with Mark, whose suave smile lured her in, and whose deep voice kept her there. He had captured her. He had a way with words and with looks. He was articulate but concise. He was tall but reposed. She was captivated. The more drinks she had, the more interested she became. The more drinks he had, the smoother he spoke. Kaitlin felt a hand on her lower back, and the two remained engaged in conversation about their careers, their personal lives, and things they enjoyed doing in their free time. Kaitlin put her right hand gently on Mark’s left hip and rested it there, sensually, and the degree of their flirtation swelled. Each took a sip from their drink, wondering where things would go from there but having a good idea of what was going to happen next.

             The silence loomed for a brief second, and before the two could think of what to say, Mark seized the opportunity and leant in for a kiss. Kaitlin reciprocated this movement, and within moments the two went from a simple kiss on the lips, to pulling back, to vulnerably staring eye-to-eye, inches from the other’s face, to leaning in again, this time making extended contact. Kaitlin enjoyed the feeling of being wanted, of being loved, of being attractive. Mark placed one hand on her cheek and another from her chin to the back of her neck, and the two continued kissing. Even though the two were in a public place, they didn’t care – they were infatuated with each other and the selfish feelings that the embrace of the other provided.

             It stayed like this for minutes, but it seemed like hours. Kaitlin was more satisfied than she’d been in ages. She felt loved, cherished, wanted, desired. As the come-up of the alcohol slowed down, she regained her bearings to a certain extent. Some coherent thoughts rushed back to her, and she realized that this wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to make out, to feel hot, to be coveted… but she didn’t want to give herself up that easily, especially for what would likely be sloppy sex. She received all of the validation she needed for the night through some conversation, some looks, and some lips. It was just easier for her to go home alone than to deal with a mediocre performance and awkward morning, a restless night and a cramped mattress.

             She had to come up with an excuse and come up with one quick to get out of her current situation; what was once a delight had now turned to a plight. She then remembered Lauren, who she considered a good drinking partner. Where did she go? What was she up to? She had to find out; she had to find her. She instinctively and convincingly told Mark that she had to relocate Lauren because Lauren was drunk and needed her; she was left with no choice but to get Lauren before she could go home.

             Kaitlin walked out of Drexler’s without a real plan in mind. She felt freedom once she was outside, but then this feeling turned from relief to fear. She was relatively comfortable in the city, but she was alone in a sea full of strangers. She haphazardly walked down the street, trying to figure out her next move. In a panicked decision that led to a rushed movement, she entered a nearby speakeasy, with the unassured hope that the calm environment would allow her to regain her thoughts. When she got inside, it was busier, quicker, and louder than she expected it to be. She sat down, pulled her phone out of her handbag, and started to scroll through her unread text messages, when      it            all          went     black.

             Kaitlin returned to her bedroom. It was Saturday morning, a little after 11:07am. She was sitting cross legged on her bed with her head in her hands and her elbows in her lap. Everything streamed back from the night before, except for the ending: what did she do after Drexler’s and how did she get back. She let herself fall backwards, coming to rest against the softness of her comforter. She couldn’t remember anything after that point.

             Kaitlin’s first inclination was to blame her loss of memory on something external. Her friends wouldn’t stop buying her drinks. The bartenders poured too strong of drinks for what she ordered. Mark slipped her something. But all of this was too convenient. She knew deep down her blackout memories stemmed from a lapse in judgement. She liked to believe that she was growing up, maturing, that she was making wiser decisions and exhibiting less foolish behavior, that she was no longer susceptible to cognizant ignorance and no longer a victim of repeat mistakes, that she had her shit together and was done with nights like this; that she was becoming an adult. But nights like this proved otherwise. She wasn’t these things, no matter how much she strived to be.

             Then Kaitlin started thinking about it, started to really, truly think about it, and she realized she’s on the path to becoming these things. She was putting in the effort to become responsible and respectable, and she had made great strides in this endeavor. Sometimes it takes a regrettable night to learn from her mistakes and get this youthful energy out of her system, she reasoned.

             Certainly, she was on the path to becoming these things. But what made it the right path, Kaitlin internally inquired.

             “Why is this the path I have to follow? Why is this the predefined, predestined path to happiness and fulfillment? What if it’s not everything I’ve ever wanted? What if I don’t want any of this? And what makes last night so regrettable? I had a great time with friends, a way better time than I’m going to have going into work on a Saturday so I can afford an overpriced apartment in an overrated city that I can’t even enjoy on my Saturday. So what if I drank entirely more than I could handle? I had fun and felt happy.”

             Kaitlin poised motionless on her back, her eyes studying the ceiling, when she broke out of her analytical trance.

             “Oh, shit, that’s right – work. Fuck, I’ve got to get ready. It’s already close to noon.”

             No time for introspection, it was time to get back to the rat race of the real world. Kaitlin calmly hurried to garner a presentable appearance – she was slightly but not fully worried because she was late, so what difference did a couple extra minutes make at this point?

             Now dressed, Kaitlin was in the process of getting her belongings together for work. She grabbed her backpack, portfolio, and laptop, and then remembered she wanted to find one of her financial accounting textbooks to bring into work to use as a reference guide. She reached into one drawer of her desk, and after searching through its contents, did not locate the book. She then tried the drawer above it, and stumbled upon a single loose-leaf piece of paper, with eight lines written on it:

When workers run softly along the current streams

Quiet footsteps fade quickly into quiet dreams

As gentle air grows thin and hopeful light draws dim

Heaving chests and sinking breaths start to reign supreme

A fulfilling life slowly becomes an afterthought

An empty life is not the one that was sought

Feet aground, hands working, grab ahold the knot

Feet dangle, hands praying only it stays taut

             Kaitlin’s eyes moved from left to right as she read the words written on the paper. She was taken back to the days leading into her 25^th birthday. At the time, it was nearly a year since she moved to New York City and started her new job. The honeymoon phase was over. Satisfaction wasn’t growing nigh, and she was getting older; she was getting older, and time wasn’t slowing down.

             She expected things would fall into place if she worked hard and made good choices. She was raised to believe this, not only by her parents, but also by society. She grew frustrated when this did not happen. She thought she put herself in the position to feel happiness and fulfillment, but these feelings were transient, coming and going like the tide at the moon’s will.

             So, the day before she turned 25, she tried her hand at something she used to love doing when she was younger: writing poetry. She sat and thought, and she jotted and scratched, and after an exhausting effort, she had written a poem she was happy with. She was tired, and she was happy. She put the piece of paper into her top desk drawer.

             Now, six months later, nothing had changed. She kept getting older, and time kept moving, but she was still chasing something, hoping to find it, not knowing what it is, and thus not knowing how to get there.

             When Kaitlin crumpled up the piece of paper, it seemed like she was turning her back on her childhood, her old interests and former hobbies. But she stopped short of throwing it in the trash; she had to keep it, for some reason – maybe because it did remind her of her youthful talents and expressions, maybe it would help her recapture them, and maybe this was the answer all along. She’d leave the wadded-up ball on the corner of her desk, and at an undetermined time, she’d either throw it out or use it as inspiration to try again.

             She opened the door of her York Avenue apartment and was on her way to work. Kaitlin could see her breath, but the temperature and sun made the afternoon air feel crisp and refreshing. It would be a long journey, but she felt like walking to work today.

Chapter 2:

             The sun dawned upon a bright spring morning in May. Daylight peered through Kaitlin’s blinds, its natural elegance making its descent unto Kaitlin’s waking eyes. It was a Monday, but Kaitlin didn’t mind.

             She got out of bed around 6:30am. She woke up well rested, after a personally productive Saturday and a relatively laidback Sunday, the fourth weekend in a row where she didn’t have to do anything for work other than check her e-mail. She leisurely moved throughout her morning ritual of eating a bagel topped with cream cheese, accompanied only by her thoughts, followed by turning on Good Morning America to join her in showering, dressing, and putting on her face. She had adjusted her gym routine – she now went to the gym after work, and she would not be going today because she had a date tonight.

             Kaitlin wasn’t fearful of being late to work – in fact, she didn’t feel anything: her complacency had grown into apathy. If she did feel a slight tinge of anything, it would be a minimal knowledge of her obligation to make it into work at a reasonable time, but she did not fear being fired because she did not see it as a plausible consequence. Reprimanded, maybe, but she could live with that, since even this scenario she did not deem likely.

             Truthfully, however, she did carry with her the fact that deep down, no matter how much she told herself otherwise, she did care. If she showed up late, and if she was punished, she would feel shame, guilt, and disappointment in herself. This is why she still managed to make it to work on time, even though her quiet little rebellion led her to believe it was her own choice. She cared, and her coworkers’ impression of her, one of someone who combined intelligence, hard work, and a positive attitude, had some truth behind it. She told herself that this was the perception she wanted to put on in order to get ahead and that she was really faking it; but really, this was her.

             She made it into work at 7:37am and sat down at her desk. As a result of her promotion and raise, she had been upgraded to her own desk. She was now a Senior Financial Analyst II, a title that held more responsibility than her previous one but an increase in pay that did not match the increase in responsibility and that could more so be seen as a price of living adjustment for inflation.

             She felt that she was in a good place in her career. This feeling was akin to bipolar tendencies: some days Kaitlin would be happy with where she was; other days she would spend researching other jobs in other cities and dreaming of dropping it all for a different life. But after a couple of stressful months near the end of the prior calendar and fiscal year, it was smooth sailing through the end of winter and the beginning of spring.

             Kaitlin handled her deadlines in March for the Q3 budgets much better this time around. She did so well, in fact, that she was progressed from a I to a II. Her director told her that, “If you keep things up like this, you’ll make manager in no time.”

             She was sucked back in. The days of checking LinkedIn for job opportunities grew fewer, and the days of trying at work again became the norm. This, of course, was in contrast to her inner deception that she was a rebel who did not care, who did not need this job, who could go work a job she was more passionate about for less of a living and still have just as much and maybe even be happier. She wanted to be praised and complimented for her ethic and output. She was sucked back into the promise of a higher position, the hope of more money, and the sight of the corner office.

             Today was one of those days she was glad to be at work. She worked hard from 7:37am to 5:39pm, with the exception of an hour lunch to catch up with her peers, get face time with her superiors, and reboot to get through the rest of the afternoon.

             Kaitlin got home a little before 6:30pm. Her date was at 8, so she had plenty of time to procrastinate getting ready. She didn’t really hesitate once she got home, though, and quickly got into the process of rummaging through her closet, trying on outfits, and finally settling upon the one right outfit – the one that was the go-to for special occasions, the one that she knew she looked damn good in, the one that she knew she would choose all along.

             Kaitlin’s date had reservations at Estela for two. He was average height, had the modern look, the nonchalant charisma, and the reserved yet sociable personality, and he went by James. Kaitlin had known James for three to four months. The two met at a brunch organized by a mutual friend, a classmate of Kaitlin’s in college and now a coworker of James’. Now, after the occasional text and slight flirting each time the two were out with the same group, they were going on their first date. Kaitlin arrived five minutes early.

             The two were seated and the evening began. To start the dinner, the server brought around two waters, and James ordered a bottle of 2009 Château Massereau, Graves. The two first made conversation about how the other’s day at work had gone, but soon ditched the dry formalities for more lively discussion. Concurrent to her verbal dialogue, Kaitlin had an internal monologue going on in her head about what she should order for dinner. Her choice would be shaped by her own goals of being fit and by her guesses as to how James would perceive her culinary decision. If they were solely picking appetizers to share, she would only choose the burrata with salsa verde and charred bread as her recommendation; something not too heavy, but something whose taste could mask its pretentiousness.

             Kaitlin and James talked about television shows they were interested in, the state of the country, movies they would like to go see, aspirations of kids and a family, sports, career goals, politics, jokes cracked by coworkers, and bucket list adventures. Eventually the conversation steered to quirky hypothetical questions.

             “Okay, James, if you could pick a single superpower, what would it be and why?”

             James tilted his head to the side and looked off in the distance, acting like he was going deep into thought. He shifted his head back to its normal position and answered, “I would be able to tell the future. Think about it, all of man’s questions stem towards the future: the economy, gambling, money – hell, even the weather. And if you were able to tell the future, you’d be set for life.”

             Kaitlin appreciated the honesty behind James’ answer and agreed with his statement, although she did not share the sentiment from which it came. Next it was his turn.

             James sportively asked her, “If you could be God for a day, what would you do?”

             Kaitlin watched as James firmly picked up the bottle of wine and gracefully poured the dark red liquid into her clear crystal glass. While the liquid flowed from one home to another, she looked through it as its concentration separated in the air, suspending the normally opaque color just enough to allow her to see through to the other side. She longed for this ability, and for it to stay like this forever. A picture-perfect moment, tranquil transparency captured in midair. No rush of movement, only stillness. No uncertainty, solely the knowledge of what has happened, what is happening, and what will happen. In this tiny little moment, Kaitlin had the answers. But as quickly as the clarity came, it closed, falling over itself, the red fluid cascading into its near-final destination, and she could no longer see through to the other side. The wine had been grown for months from fruits in France, packaged into glass bottles, and shipped 4,800 miles to reach its final resting place in Kaitlin’s stomach.

             She lent in closer, moved her head forward, and made direct eye contact with James. She earnestly said to him, “I would go back in time and never create humans. I would go back to the Garden, before the serpent, before the concentration camps, before the Czars, before Napoleon, before Pontius Pilate sentenced Jesus Christ, before Picasso made any of his paintings, before Galileo made any of his discoveries, before Rome was built, before the Epics of the Iliad and the Odyssey were written, before man decided he had the right to destroy the earth that was given to him while destroying his neighbor and therefore himself, before Adam’s rib was taken to make Eve, I would not take my own to make Adam.”

             Kaitlin maintained intense eye contact with James, carrying a serious look on her face. She deserved an award for her performance; she knew she would have to break from character soon, since she knew James was not a fan of her response. These words, however, were her truthful thoughts, but because she liked James and did not want him to not like her, she played it off as if she was joking all along. Brief silence ensued before Kaitlin cracked a contagious smile – it was almost like she was saying, “Ha, got you,” and James knew it was okay to laugh.

             The dinner concluded around 9:30pm, but the night wasn’t over yet. The grand opening of a new bar in Midtown was tonight, and Kaitlin and James were going to meet a few friends for a couple of drinks before calling it quits. The two hailed a cab for the short ride north to Steppes.

             Kaitlin’s friends were seated at a table by the time she and James arrived. The pair walked in the entrance and then through a long corridor to the outside patio in the back where the group was seated. Tiny yellow lamp lights were strewn cutely and carefully across from tree to tree in the courtyard, and the hustle of servers, contained conversations at each wooden picnic table, and soft acoustic music playing in the background made it seem like a theater of sorts.

             Kaitlin introduced James to Vanessa, Ryan, Samantha, and Christian. Kaitlin was good friends with Vanessa in college after being acquaintances in high school, and both now found themselves living in New York City, Ryan was dating Vanessa, and Kaitlin knew Samantha and Christian as acquaintances through Vanessa. There was a special on pitchers for the grand opening, so James and Kaitlin each ordered one for the table. This, they figured, would be enough to suffice for the evening before they headed home.

             James fit in with the group very quickly, cracking jokes as if he had been best friends with them for years. Kaitlin liked this quality about James – he was personable, albeit conservative. She liked the juxtaposition of the two traits and felt he did a good job of playing to the strengths of each, either deliberately or by lucky accident.

             Vanessa nudged Kaitlin and tried to get as much information as possible out of Kaitlin about her date with James. Kaitlin was only willing to say it was going well, wishing not to jinx it, and hoping to refrain from obviously talking about it openly in front of James. She told Vanessa she would text her about it in the morning.

             Once the two pitchers were near complete, the six came to the silent but apparent conclusion that it was time to go. Real life was again awaiting them in the morning. Kaitlin and James said their goodbyes to the rest of the group and walked out together.

             Kaitlin had no intentions of going home with James that night, and she hoped James did not have the misconception that this was going to happen. She liked him a lot and did not want to become just another girl to him who gave it up on the first night. She was afraid if she did this, even though part of her wanted to, that he would lose interest and she would lose him. With a couple of comments, he tested the waters, but she could tell he was not expecting it, so he was not going to push it, which she appreciated. The two looked into each other’s faces, both able to tell that the other was happy with the overall result of the night and happy to be with the other, and they kissed once, then a second time for a longer amount of time, and then a third to seal the mutual feelings, as if to ensure it was real and true and reciprocated. They agreed to a second date that weekend, and then they were on their separate ways home, each by car.

             On Kaitlin’s way home, she reflected on her day and how she actually, really had a great day. Work went well and had been going well, she thought James was a great guy and he returned this fondness, and she caught up with some friends… But something was off. For some reason, she wasn’t completely happy. In fact, she wasn’t happy at all. Instead she found herself in a state of melancholy. She stared blankly out the window of her ride at the streetlights passing by. Each one seemed to have a purpose, and each life they illuminated seemed to know what it was doing.

             She made it through her apartment doors a little after 11pm, but she didn’t care about the time at this point. She couldn’t think of what she cared about. She supposedly had a great life, to an outsider at least. But on the inside, she did not feel great. A friend or stranger might say she was complete or on her way to complete, but she felt empty. She thought of all of the friends in her life and found problems with each one. She thought of all of her goals in life, and they were unattainable. She thought of all of her disappointments, and they were too overwhelming to overcome. She wasn’t happy with how things were going. She didn’t know what she wanted to do in life. She wanted to know right then and there where life would take her, but years of impatiently waiting had taken their toll, and she couldn’t wait anymore – she could now wait forever because she no longer cared enough to be impatient. She gave up. She wanted no more of it. There was no solution, and any thought of a solution led to hope, and any hope led to inevitable pain.

             Kaitlin walked over to the kitchen counter in her one-bedroom apartment overlooking the sights of other one-bedroom apartments. She lifted her arm up and towards a set of sharp knives lying in their wooden block. Cautiously, she reached for the chef knife and pulled it out of its hollow home. Holding the knife in her right hand, she calmly breathed in and closed her eyes. She found her escape, and knowing how to get there gave her peace. This was no new piece of knowledge, though. She knew how to get there since she first toyed with the idea when she was younger, but never followed through with it, out of a slim, persistent hope that things would get better. Now this hope appeared to be diminishing – a dim light waning out of sight. She meditated, standing in the darkness with her eyes closed.

             She fantasized of what her final moments would be like before and after. Before, she would say her last goodbyes. After, she would clutch her throat, gasp for air, and fall to the ground. She wondered how long it would be before someone found her and who would find her. She thought of her parents and how devastated they would be when they learned the news. She imagined her funeral and how her friends would post messages on social media commemorating her life. She pondered the kids she would never raise and job titles she would never achieve. She mourned that she would never reach fulfillment or satisfaction. It didn’t matter if she lived forever, she figured she’d never reach them, so these ideas had to die because such states were unattainable. She fantasized of what her final moments would be like, but even with the sharp blade held in her hand, it didn’t seem real.

             She always knew it would come to this – it was just a matter of when.

             Kaitlin thought of the past – the big events in her life and even the less memorable ones. In her mind she viewed a VHS video her parents recorded that she watched when she was younger: it was her playing in the park, running and smiling and laughing and tripping and crying, her mom picking her up every time she fell down. She contemplated if there was anything she could have done differently in her 25 years of life that would have kept her from reaching this point.

             She wondered if this would finally be the time she did it.

             Kaitlin walked over to the living room window of her 14^th floor apartment. She saw hundreds of other living room windows, some with the lights on and tenants awake, others dark with the occupants asleep. No matter what Kaitlin chose to do, the lives of these people would carry on independently and indifferently. What she did would have no effect on them. They would continue their lives all the same, and they would eventually all die. Nothing they could do would save them from this fate, and this fate was the one thing they all shared. Kaitlin was just one of the 100 billion people to ever walk the Earth, and her life would maybe span 80 years of the Earth’s 4.5 billion-year existence. Evolution transformed a simple organic molecule into humans who invented methods of communicating real-time with someone across the world. Kaitlin went to a state school and worked for a faceless corporation. She struggled to find meaning in life.

             All of the money she didn’t spend, all of the calories she didn’t eat, all of the dreams she didn’t pursue were for naught. All of the times she worried about grades, all of the times she stressed about work, all of the times she got angry at another driver in traffic were worthless. The limits she set for herself were in vain, and the things she tried hardest to master were out of her control. Her 401(k) wouldn’t be coming with her to where she was going.

             Kaitlin looked at the other apartment buildings across the street. “I wonder if the time that someone goes to sleep puts them in a different timeframe from someone else. When you go to sleep, you wake up and it’s the next day immediately, so if you go to sleep early, you could be living in the next day before someone else.” Kaitlin caught her reflection in the glass. She felt happy for a second. She always knew she was pretty, and she really did love herself and her friends and her family and life, and she understood life, but she didn’t want to go to sleep early. She wanted to go to sleep forever. She raised the knife in her hand to the left side of her throat, its edge balancing close to her skin. With one quick movement in and to the right, she forced the blade deep into her neck. Blood gushed from the newly formed slit in her neck. She tried to scream in pain, but her broken trachea made this an impossible feat. She gargled blood, unable to spit out the increasingly high amount pooling in her mouth. She tried to think of a solution, but a lack of oxygen thanks to a cut in her carotid artery led to confusion. Blood sprayed from her wounds onto the floor in front of her as she collapsed to the ground. She tried to keep her eyes open, but she couldn’t stay awake any longer. Her severed jugular vein leaked the remainder of her mind. Her life left her eyes, and her dreams took over for good.

Chapter 3:

             Kaitlin woke from a deep sleep in her childhood bedroom. She slowly opened her eyes to the empty, light yellow walls that surrounded her. Her parents had repurposed her room since she moved away to college, and now, save a Rainy City canvas and a family photo calendar, the walls were barren. No longer did they display pop stars and action heroes, sports trophies, and colorful tapestries. The room now served as an office, with an extra bed in it to double as the second guest bedroom for all of the visitors her parents didn’t have staying regularly.

             It was Kaitlin’s parents’ 30^th wedding anniversary. She flew from her transient suburbia in New York to her home in Asheville, North Carolina for the weekend to see them for the first time since the holidays. Tonight they were having a family dinner, but they did not have plans to go to a luxurious restaurant for a fantastic celebration. Instead, they planned to have a home-cooked meal, with no loud noises, no artificial ambiance, no outside distractions.

             Kaitlin was excited to wake up in her old room in her old house in her old town. As much as the details changed, the sense of belonging was still there. The walls no longer adorned the same decorations, but the structure remained. The streets were wider and repaved. The bars were larger and renamed. Most of her friends were gone and moved on, but a few still hung around. She still knew the area, and the area still knew her.

             Kaitlin thought about her small apartment in the City: the walls were thin and they needed painting, the appliances were outdated and they needed replacing. She took the elevator downstairs to wash her clothes. She walked four blocks to buy her groceries. She paid $2,200 a month to be kept awake by flashing lights and moaning sirens. She became acquainted with her surroundings but lived in a city full of tourists and temporary settlers, and she couldn’t tell the difference.

             She sometimes wondered if she made the right decision.

             Kaitlin joined her parents in the dining room at 6:30pm. Her older sister and younger brother were also invited, but only her younger brother was able to attend.

             Kaitlin’s parents turned the corner around the kitchen to the dining room, proudly but nonchalantly carrying their masterpiece. Her parents enjoyed cooking as a hobby, fancying a meal in over a night out, and over the years, became humbly skillful cooks. Tonight they made stuffed flank steak with garlic roasted potatoes and caramelized onions. Kaitlin, upon seeing the incoming dishes in her parents’ hands, immediately offered to help them bring the food to the table.

             Kaitlin’s younger brother shortly joined from his bedroom. Together, the four of them sat down to a quiet dinner, and for this, did not even turn on the radio or the television.

             “So, Mom, Dad, 30 years, that’s pretty special, huh?” Kaitlin quirkily asked.

             “30 years? It can’t be that long – we’re only 30 years old. Come on!” Kaitlin’s father jokingly launched back in a dorky but funny response that only a dad can deliver.

             “Oh, John, it was a good question,” Kaitlin’s mother endearingly chimed in, happily staring at her husband before glancing down to her culinary creation and then up toward her daughter.

             “Honey, these past 30 years have been amazing. I’m lucky I found your father.”

             “And I’m even luckier she found me.”

             “Awh,” Kaitlin laughed and was joined by her brother and then by her parents, the four all realizing how sappy the past couple of minutes of conversation was.

             When the chorus subsided, quiet came. The endorphins released by the joyous laughter dispersed through everyone at the table. Kaitlin looked at her mom, her dad, and the two of them lovingly gazing at each other.

             “I still remember the day I met your father. Actually, that’s a lie. I just kind of remember us being friends and then more than friends. Maybe not necessarily the classic American love story.”

             “I think I asked you out after we met through friends of friends. And then the rest is, I guess, history.”

             Kaitlin thought to herself how lucky she would be if one day she could find the same love that her parents did. Her parents managed to make it through 30 years, three kids, personal financial troubles, stagnating income growth, failing job markets, promotions they didn’t get, jobs they couldn’t take, saving for their first house, saving for the kids’ first cars, saving for the kids’ college tuition, saving for retirement, sleepless nights of changing diapers, sleepless nights of newly turned 18-year-olds being out till 3am, decisions of which doctor to choose, decisions of which school to pick, fights about the little things that weren’t actually about the little things but were simply a culmination of every point of unhappy contention that eventually built itself up into something much more, and success, the success of still being alive and still having something to live for.

             Kaitlin thought about how many of her friends’ parents’ marriages ended in divorce. Worse, she thought about how many ended in adultery – or continued in spite of adultery. She thought of the ways it affected her friends around her, ways she could see it affected them, no matter the age it happened.

             Kaitlin was glad her parents never struggled enough to succumb to this outcome, putting themselves through the pain, and beyond that, entangling their kids into their life-altering decisions and consequences; she was glad she was never forced to comply with two Christmases, two Thanksgivings, and two anniversaries; and she was glad she never had to watch her mother date someone else or see her father fall apart.

             Not all of divorce, however, was dreadful, Kaitlin knew. Sometimes people gave it their best and it just didn’t work. Sometimes it was a necessary pain on the path to better days. And sometimes it was hell.

             She was blessed this was something she never had to experience – as a child, at least. She was uncertain what lied on her road ahead. She looked at her parents again and saw them smiling at each other. Her parents were in love after 30 years, and she hoped to find that someday.

             It was time to move to the living room; Kaitlin’s family finished their main course. Feeling festive, they moved on to dessert, a three-layer cake with peanut butter chocolate mousse, and continued drinking their $16 red wine.

             The four of them sat down on the light brown linen couch set and turned on the television. Kaitlin, in the house she knew so well within the town she knew so well, texted a few friends to see if they were home and if they would like to go out, get a couple of drinks, and catch up.

Chapter A:

             Kaitlin was born in Asheville, North Carolina amidst a generation that would later be known as the millennial generation, a stigma cast down upon them by the older generations who set them up for failure. She was the middle child of three, born to parents John and Sydney.

             Kaitlin had the white, middle-class, Christian upbringing that is the portrait of the prototypical American family, before the prototypical American family could no longer be identified as one race, one class, or one religion. She grew up in a two-story brick house in a quiet suburb, populated by other houses of similar sizes but different dimensions. The house was built in the 1920s and bought soon after Kaitlin’s older sister’s birth, when Kaitlin’s parents decided upon a city to raise a family.

             Kaitlin’s mother, Sydney, was an elementary school teacher. For years she bounced around classes from one grade to another, before finally settling on the fifth grade. Early on, she enjoyed the novelty of teaching various classes and grades, but then decided it’s best to stick with one grade going forward. She initially was fond of the third-grade class. Eventually the admiration wore off, but the appreciation remained, and because she knew what she was getting into each year, she was fine trading the lack of spontaneity for the knowledge of familiarity. Boredom could grow, but the fear of surprises now outweighed the excitement.

             Kaitlin’s father, John, was a loan underwriter. He didn’t particularly like the work, but he was relatively good at it, and it paid the bills. He started college a few years behind his friends – at the time, he didn’t know if college was required for a middle-class life. He then dropped out of college a few years in because he wanted to give one last shot that his dream of being a professional photographer would come true. But alas, he gave up his passion for a career, his life for a livelihood. He’d always wake up any time he slipped back into his dream. A snapshot of his bank account would never be picture perfect – but it was close enough.

             Kaitlin was placed into daycare at an early age since both parents worked. John and Sydney would have preferred for one of the two to stay at home and raise their kids, but could not forego the extra income that two earners bring in. Plus, they didn’t want to have the conversation of who would resign themselves to take care of the children, effectively pressing pause on their career and their aspirations of promotions.

             During daycare, Kaitlin’s personality began to emerge, as she grew old enough to show one. She was a happy kid, not at all shy of strangers or new situations. In pre-school, she was talkative using the whole couple hundred-word vocabulary she boasted. And by elementary school, she had developed a friendly approach to all of those around her. She was so curious to learn from others, so excited to be with others.

             For her next step, junior high, Kaitlin was enrolled at the school local to her neighborhood’s zoning district. Kaitlin’s parents would be able to make the three mile drive to drop her off at and pick her up from school each morning and afternoon, and she’d go to school with all of the kids in the surrounding neighborhoods whom she hadn’t met yet. Maybe that’d turn into beneficial, long-lasting friendships, her parents hoped, and even a smooth transition to high school.

             Heading into middle school, Kaitlin was exhibiting enthusiasm and confidence to enter the land of lockers and classes. She had developed a sense of readiness for a whole new world of grown-up kids, esteemed teachers, and real learning of legitimate subjects. She envisioned the entire thing in her head and how fun the new adventure would be.

             However, before the end of middle school, Kaitlin was demonstrating despondence and faux charisma each morning she still had to walk into the building’s doors. She was picked on for her appearance – she was too short, too small, her hair had too many split ends, and she didn’t have any sense of style within the school’s uniform confinements. She was made fun of for her lack of social skills. She went from an extrovert to an introvert when classmates would cut through each of the words she’d say and things that she thought were cool that she’d put on display. She was left out of games at recess because she loved books and homework and learning and school, simply qualifying her as someone who wouldn’t be fun to play games with or any good if she did play. Left alone, she felt isolated and segregated from the rest of the 6^th-8^th grade students she went to school with every day.

             Inside Kaitlin’s mind, she wasn’t sure where her next steps would take her. Somewhere hidden, she was still the same happy, curious, and confident kid she once was, and she had the knowledge of the hope that one day she’d return to be a happy, curious, and confident person. She had struggled with life for the past three years – dark times mixed into the good, but mostly dark – lying in bed at home, listening to CDs that spoke to her despair, crying herself to sleep. But even through the sad thoughts, wants of release, and suicidal wishes, she knew she still had the hope that it would all get better. High school was around the corner, and a summer break was all she needed. She’d make herself into a better her, more likeable by the other students, even if it meant being less like likeable by herself.

             At the age of 14, just before the start of high school, Kaitlin and her family moved to Charlotte, North Carolina. Kaitlin’s father had been laid off work, sending the family scrambling. Resiliently, he quickly landed on his feet, finding a job in the same field, just a few hours southeast of Asheville. Kaitlin would be saying goodbye to the white picket fence forever, as she entered a new age of maturity, in a new home, in a new house, in a new city.

             The move to a new place was able to give Kaitlin a fresh start. She resolved not to reinvent herself but rather to try again, simply learning from her past mistakes, taking them into account in tweaking her personality at an age when her personality was still forming. She thought so much of this second chance – at 14, the small bubble she lived in was her whole world. She knew that this world would expand, but she didn’t have an appreciation for the eventual magnitude of the expansion. Indeed, she thought so much of this second chance, not understanding her life would feature numerous more “second” chances, and not understanding that the past always carries a flavor in the present. Life often goes by as a series of continuous moments on an everlasting timetable with a predefined but unknown personal end, without many big things to show for it. This was one of those many big things – a significant event to mark the end of a previous period and the beginning of a new era in an otherwise monotonous timeline – but even with any tweaking and any second tries, she would still be the same person.

             And so Kaitlin woke up at 6:10am, and ate breakfast and showered and dressed and got ready for her first day of high school and got into her mother’s car. She was ready for the honors courses, the AP exams, trying out for the different sports teams, joining the different social clubs and academic societies, Shakespeare, Greek mythology, Mrs. Havisham, and The Catcher and the Rye. She was ready to give it her all – to make some friends to have a happy and healthy teenage experience. She was ready to give it her best – to make the principal’s list to get into a good school. High school was a means to the end game of college, and college was a means to the end game of a career, at which point there would be no more end games and it would all make sense. At 7:05am, Kaitlin got out of her mother’s car, and walked up the entrance to her high school’s main building, into the next chapter of her life.

             Kaitlin was 16 when she had her first kiss, 17 when she let someone see her naked for the first time, and 18 when she lost her virginity. She was 14 when she drank her first beer, 15 when she smoked her first joint, and 16 when she went to her first party. She snuck out of the house once, skipped class twice, and got grounded because she got a speeding ticket. She was stressed, reckless, and depressed, fighting puberty, hormones, and the uncertainty of the future.

             Kaitlin was also a straight A student until senioritis. She played junior varsity soccer until realizing she wasn’t good enough for varsity. She volunteered at the local food shelter because her high school required it and because she wanted to feel like she was doing something for her community, and she worked a part time job at the YMCA because she needed disposable income to have a good time during the weekend, when a good time during the weekend cost $15 and someone else still put a roof over her head and food on the table. She listened to her friends when they needed her, even though they didn’t always listen back. She was thoughtful, kind, and compassionate, overcoming anxiety, doubt, and the insecurity of the past.

             It was senior year when Kaitlin started applying to colleges, after applying herself to the grades and extracurriculars it would take to be accepted.

             Kaitlin applied to the University of North Carolina (Chapel Hill), North Carolina State, Wake Forest, and East Carolina University. Wake Forest was her reach school. She and her parents figured they’d shoot for the stars, but they’d shoot in state. Her qualifications were good, but not good enough; she was rejected, not deferred. East Carolina University was the backup plan. She and her parents figured it was wise to have a safe school but didn’t put much stock in it. Her application garnished her a scholarship, but the assistance was not enough to entice her from UNC or NC State; accepted, but declined. Kaitlin’s family didn’t have any allegiance to either of the remaining two options, and Kaitlin got into both. They offered similar experiences as a whole – moderately-rated academics, mostly-ranked sports, and a large, diverse student body – in other words, they provided the classic college experience that she so desperately desired, regardless if the academics didn’t compare to Wake Forest (which was no longer even on the table) or the costs didn’t equate to East Carolina University (after all, college was an investment in the future, wasn’t it, so a better school would make up for a higher tuition, wouldn’t it?). It was a question of which college would Kaitlin obtain that experience at, and to which financial institution would Kaitlin sign into a contract to have her checking account credited once a month for the 120 months (give or take) proceeding graduation. It was when she toured Chapel Hill that she fell in love with the campus and in love with the school. After four years in Charlotte, it was time to move to Chapel Hill for four years in college.

             It was a warm day in June when Kaitlin walked across the stage as she graduated from high school, before packing up her bedroom in her parent’s house, driving two hours northeast, and transitioning to a dorm room in a brick building, trading her double bed for a twin bed and a roommate.

             College didn’t start as Kaitlin predicted it would. She was excited to be surrounded by 40,000 other students on a large college campus with historic brick buildings dedicated to each academic school. However, during her first semester, she felt herself become suddenly lonely, a feeling that came rushing in fast, deep, and unexpected, when it struck Kaitlin out of nowhere a month into school. It was almost overnight when she got stuck with the feeling that wasn’t making enough friends fast enough, and it was one night that she cried in her bed upon this realization, a Tuesday night where she stayed in but her roommate went out. She knew it was unreasonable to get upset about – it was simply the catalyst to a sinking sentiment that had been building inside her.

             As her first semester progressed, her outlook got better. She was doing the things she thought she should and would be doing in college, like going out with friends on Tuesday nights, staying in to drink wine and watch trash TV with her roommate and two girls down the hall from their room, going to the library occasionally, going to the gym frequently, meeting fresh faces, and pulling all-nighters three times a semester for each of her four classes. She achieved a 4.0 her first semester, since she wanted to succeed as much as she could to begin her collegiate career. But as her social life continued to increase, her grade point average started to decrease.

             Kaitlin changed her major to finance the summer before her sophomore year. Prior to her new declaration, she spent two semesters studying advertising – although, to be precise, she hadn’t actually taken any advertising classes yet, as she was still in the process of completing her prerequisite general education courses.

             Advertising was a much more intriguing subject than finance. Advertising, she figured, would allow her to show her creative side while still being involved in a business function. But when Kaitlin dwelled on the subject, she realized that finance was a much more defined, stable, and lucrative career than advertising. She knew there was a Chief Financial Officer, but didn’t think there was an advertising equivalent, and what would sound better on her business card, e-mail signature, and LinkedIn profile: “Finance Associate” or “Advertising Associate”?

             Of course, at 19 years old, she didn’t really know what she was getting into with either, anyway. She didn’t really know the different types of jobs either major could offer her, or what a typical day would be like at any of these jobs, any more than Google could tell her. She had no idea the career paths for a single one, if she even had the foresight to know that she’d stick to one her whole entire life. Career services could only help so much.

             Maybe advertising was her passion, a dream, but finance was her safe bet, the easier option, even though the classes weren’t easier. So, after consulting with her parents, her friends, and herself, she made what seemed like a big but inconsequential decision at the time, to change her major, and potentially, her whole entire future. Maybe part of the outcome would be the same though: instead of enticing people to buy products they didn’t need, she’d be getting them to buy stocks they didn’t need.

             In addition to making a change academically her sophomore year, Kaitlin also made a change socially. At the beginning of the fall semester, Kaitlin went through sorority recruitment and gained a whole new set of friends in the Zeta Tau Alpha sorority. Her addition to Greek life gifted her lots of experiences that she didn’t have to go out seeking in order to experience. It would be her stepping stone to numerous interactions, setting her up for date functions, drinking buddies, study partners, old notes so she didn’t have to study, friends to eat all of her meals with, friends to go to all of her classes with, gym partners, girls who looked so stunning Kaitlin forced herself to go to the gym, and the occasional intramural activity or networking opportunity for the late period in college when she’d actually, seriously plan for her post-grad future. Plus, she could still see her old friends from freshman year or her old friends from senior year of high school, and she could still make friends in her classes.

             Kaitlin enjoyed and didn’t enjoy a somewhat active love life in college. In the beginning, even after having a few boyfriends in high school, she was timid to go on dates or make out at bars. She didn’t want to become the stereotypical freshman girl portrayed in stereotypical college movies. But as the first few semesters of college progressed and pushed on into her first summer on campus, Kaitlin began to loosen up, care less, and lust more. She went through her slutty phase before finding a boyfriend, in which she wasn’t afraid to get free meals or go home with one-night stands from clubs. However, once she found the perfect college boyfriend, who was by no means perfect, she held onto him tightly until the relationship fell apart, faced with the mounting pressure of a single semester until graduation, like a rogue wave rising in the distance. They cared about each other, but their lives would no longer intertwine after college, and the truth crashed over them six months before they’d enter the real world.

             Approaching the end of her four-year experience, Kaitlin found herself applying for jobs, reminiscent of four years prior, when she was applying for schools. The activity placed an intense weight on Kaitlin’s shoulders. She felt pressure to make the right decision and frustration when the decision she thought was right was no longer even a choice. She had to weigh what she wanted with what was realistic. Wake Forest was now I-banking, ECU was internal audit, and the University of North Carolina was financial valuation.

             But just like finding a university, the magnitude of the impact that finding a job would have on the future of her life just didn’t click. It certainly wasn’t a call to be frantic. Contrarily, it was a message to be adventurous. She could scope job boards and participate in career fairs and work for any number of companies in any number of cities, if she got offers. She was nervous she wouldn’t get any in the line of finance she wanted for the type of pay she wanted, or even any at all. But that’s what she was nervous about – not that this process could determine where she lived, who she married, her friends, her kids’ looks and personalities, if she ever becomes a CFO, or whether she gets killed in a freak accident crossing Crawford Street in Houston.

             By the time her resume was being sent to potential employers, Kaitlin had improved her GPA to a 3.53. After the job boards, career fairs, campus interviews, and office visits, she had two job offers to her name, and many more, “Thank you for your interest, but at this time, we have decided to go a different direction,” e-mails. Kaitlin was then presented with a choice of either working as a financial analyst for a large corporation headquartered in Charlotte or as a financial advisor in a small firm based in Raleigh. Although Kaitlin wanted something new in her life, she knew that the financial analyst role granted the better of the two opportunities. So once again, she found herself moving to Charlotte, where she had just spent four years living, four years prior. She was happy to make the move, however. She was happy to be back home, closer to her parents (who had since moved back to birth-town of Asheville), near her high school friends, who also returned after college, and near her hometown friends, who never left.

             Upon the conclusion of commencement, and a few nights of celebration, Kaitlin packed her Honda Civic with her belongings from her cozy bedroom in her shoddy rented house, said goodbye to the roommates who she had come to call best friends, and started the two hour drive southwest, to go home to her parents for one last summer while searching online for a luxury-style one-bedroom apartment in Uptown. On the way, she began to think of everyone and everything – from college, to high school and middle school, and into the ages where she didn’t even go to school. A melancholic nostalgia overtook her like a rip current along I-85, her memories flowing onto the pavement.

             Stored in Kaitlin’s head were the home films of her childhood. She didn’t remember the experiences first-hand; her memories consisted of what the footage displayed. One video tape stood out, even years after Kaitlin last watched it: when she lost her footing while playing. She was three years old at the time – just old enough to run autonomically, but still too young to do so gracefully. She was at the park by her house, surrounded by her parents and older sister. She didn’t have a worry in the world. Everything was so simple. All of it was so easy. Except, of course, for running. But even when she fell, her mother was there to pick her up, and her father was there to catch it on tape. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have the answers because she didn’t have the questions, outside of a general curiosity for the world. The things she thought about made sense, and what didn’t make sense, she didn’t think about for longer than it took for the next thought to pop into her head. She was so eager to grow up, to become an adult, but she wasn’t aware of what was in store for her, and she couldn’t predict the realizations about life she would come to.

             Much of Kaitlin’s personality could be attributed to hereditary genetics and environmental lottery. She inherited a mix of looks and smarts from her mother and father, learned from how her parents acted, and picked up on the cues of her classmates, who imitated how their parents acted. One sperm out of millions in a single ejaculate successfully reached its goal: the egg that was chosen from a group of thousands to relocate to the fallopian tube during ovulation. 26 years later, she was still the result of this sperm and egg. Just as she was born to white, middle-class, Christian parents in the United States, she could have been born an heir to a throne in the Middle East or a benefactor of a broken home in Sub-Saharan Africa, or not born at all. She didn’t summer in the Hamptons, she didn’t shelter in the ghetto, and she lived in a generation that didn’t survive the American dream. She was exactly where she was, and of all the infinite possibilities that may have existed, this one was hers.

             Kaitlin was truly as stereotypical as they come – all her characteristics, thoughts, traits, words, routines, actions, patterns, behaviors, and habits were different from other living creatures; all her emotions, strengths, weaknesses, hopes, fears, feelings, and appearances were the same of other human beings. She was a savant of being average. She was a collection of other identities. She was herself.

             Kaitlin was a unique duplicate, simply trying to find her way in life, just like everyone else. Her life was a carbon copy of the billions that came before her and the prototype for the billions to come after her. She was searching for something more in life. She was searching for something she hadn’t found. She was searching for something she’d possibly never find.

             On the drive home, Kaitlin wondered if her wistful sentiment would ever give way to cheerful hope for the future.

Chapter 4:

             Kaitlin’s younger brother shortly joined from his bedroom. Together, the four of them sat down to a quiet dinner, and for this, did not even turn on the radio or the television.

             Kaitlin thought about the number of times she sat around this same dining table while growing up, eating dinner, conversing about her day at school, the big story on CNN or ESPN, her father’s promotion. She felt refreshed to be in familiar conversation again, contained within a nostalgic setting. However, her family no longer convened to talk about her field trip to the Asheville Art Museum in eighth grade or her mother’s overnight business trip to Minneapolis. Time shifted, her parents retired, her sister moved out, she moved out, she went to college, she started working, she took a new job in a new city for a new adventure, and the attention turned from her first year of kindergarten to her first year of work, and then the second, and now the third. It used to be, “Congrats, Dad!” on his promotion; now it was, “Congrats, Dear!” on hers.

             After spending a couple of minutes discussing the media circus surrounding the circus of an election, the dialogue transitioned to Kaitlin’s career.

             “So Kaitlin, how is being a Senior II treating you? That’s gotta be exciting, right?” Kaitlin’s mother excitedly asked, her smile beaming from ear-to-ear, proud of her daughter for her professional success.

             Kaitlin was happy to be home, away from work, away from life, away from stress. She was surrounded by memories of a time when life made sense. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about work.

             “It’s good, mom,” Kaitlin, annoyed by the question, responded. She wasn’t sure why she felt annoyed by the question, why it seemed so intrusive for her mother to ask her about her life. Her mother was just happy for her. Kaitlin didn’t want to talk about herself – to her parents, at least. It wasn’t like talking to her friends. They wouldn’t understand.

             Kaitlin stared at her reflection in the laminate finish of the dining room table. The glare mirrored her image in different directions, contorting her view of herself.

             “Mom, she doesn’t want to talk about her that,” Kaitlin’s brother, Christian, stuttered. “But, but… How’s… Va-nes-sa?”

             Vanessa was the one girl who was always nice to Christian, who would go out of her way to treat him like he was special – like he was normal. An innocent crush resulted.

             “She’s good, Christian,” Kaitlin smiled to her brother. “It’s funny she moved up to New York, too. We don’t see each other often, but next time we’re both back here, I’ll be sure to bring her by the house. Actually, I did just see her last weekend when I was out with James,” Kaitlin’s thoughts drifted.

             “Who’s James?” Her father jokingly but curiously interrupted.

             Kaitlin, resolving to be nicer this time around, letting her guard down and opening up. “James is this guy I recently met and went on a couple of dates with last week. He’s really nice, has a really good job. I think I really like him.”

             Kaitlin didn’t want to give up too much, but she did want her parents to know some of what was going on in her life. They had the right to be interested, she figured. She would be interested in her children’s lives, and she was glad they were interested in hers. She guessed they could understand – after all, her mom and dad were her age once, learning the same lessons and making the same mistakes, before being called mom and dad.

             The irony was not lost on Kaitlin that she had trouble letting her parents know about the slightest of things in her personal life, but she could post the most intimate of things to her social media accounts. She was completely aware of this paradox. She was afraid her parents would judge her, while she let her “friends” know “all” about her life. She purported the best glimpses of her life through staged photos and scripted texts for them to see as a part of her online persona. Deep down she knew her parents would not judge her for her shortcomings. Deep down she knew that it was she who perceived herself as having shortcomings, not her parents.

             Of course there were times her behavior would shift to the opposing direction, and she would indulge her parents in everything and isolate her friends from everything. In this sense, her personality was warped, like her portrait shining in the dining room table – her mood, her feelings, her attitude changing at the discretion of the light overhead.

             “Well, I hope things work out, honey,” her mom commented with a genuine optimism, her comforting tone rooted in unwavering conviction that things would work out for her child, as only a parent could have and know.

             Kaitlin wondered if she truly hoped things would work out. Sure, she liked James, but was she ready to give up her life, was she ready for her story to already be written, at the young age of 25? To be sure, she had only been on two dates with James, so she was aware she was getting ahead of herself with this thought, and to be certain, 25 didn’t used to be a young age. Her indecisiveness, her fear of missing out, her curiosity about the color of the grass on the other side, her worry about not obtaining all of the life experiences she was led to believe were required of her – her restlessness – all led her to question the whole entire life that lie before her with James by her side, just two dates into an unofficial relationship. She couldn’t waste time with him if she didn’t plan to be serious; she was 25 – she needed to get married and have kids soon. But she still wanted to have fun, to be wild, to be crazy, to be young – it was what she saw in the movies and in television and in pop culture; the carefree party girl with the hard body going on 30 but looking like 20 was an image etched in her memory like she had actually experienced it. The idea that endless possibilities existed created doubt in her mind. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t know what to do. She didn’t know the right choice. She didn’t know if there was right a choice. The average life expectancy for the 1.6 billion people living in 1900 was 31 years. If she was lucky, she’d be dead soon. How lucky they were to be born when they were.

             Either way, they’re all dead now.

             It was time to move to the living room; Kaitlin’s family finished their main course. Feeling festive, they moved on to dessert, a three-layer cake with peanut butter chocolate mousse, and continued drinking their $16 red wine.

Chapter 5:

             It was a late Thursday in May, and Kaitlin was turning 26. Her birthday was a week after her parents’ anniversary. Whether her parents planned this, she didn’t know, and she preferred not to know.

             Lauren, Ethan, Alex, Vanessa, James, and Kaitlin were seated underneath a little cabana 17 stories high above the dirt. They were ringing in Kaitlin’s 26^th birthday on the rooftop lounge of the Refinery Hotel in Midtown. The spring air was starting to give in to the summer’s warmth, and with the June solstice quickly approaching, being kept late at the office wasn’t going to keep the six of them from seeing the sunset. Of course, Kaitlin left work a little early on her birthday.

             The group crowded in closer from their contemporary-style chairs and raised their right arms up from below the elbow, a shot glass between each thumb and index finger. The clear liquid that coated the glass with a dark tint was Bacardi 151. At 75.5% alcohol, the shot packed a punch filled with fervor. Kaitlin chose it because of a mantra her and her friends coined to make themselves feel a little less like failures while struggling in certain classes during college: “C’s make degrees.” To be fair, they worked hard when they needed to, and they made it through college, and they were working hard now, when they needed to.

             It was Thursday night; being hungover in the office on a Friday morning wouldn’t be too terrible.

             After the world seemed to stand silently still around them while they took their celebratory round, the bar again became busy, patrons walking and talking along the rooftop, music moving throughout the air. Soon after the hour hand on Kaitlin’s rose-gold watch ticked to “VIII”, the decorative patio lights started to illuminate the bar, as the sun began its descent to the other side of the world. The sky was bright and blue only minutes prior. Save a few white clouds overhead, the atmosphere was clear. Suddenly, the light gave way to the dark, and the night closed in. The clouds were replaced with barely discernible stars, masked by the glow of city lights. A solemn gray turned to a pitch black. But, for one brief moment, before the moon faded into view, the sky looked beautiful, frozen like a picture to last forever, but fragile like ice under pressure. The skyline of countless tall buildings etched its outline into the colors of the setting sun, the Statue of Liberty standing virtuously in the background. Varying degrees of yellow, orange, and red played against each other, sloping higher as they became increasingly dark and solidly opaque. Within seconds, the dance was done. The darkness came; the lightness went. Night settled in. Everyone found beauty in the dance but didn’t know what it meant. It was choreographed, scripted, and predicted, but each time a little different, and even though they always knew it was coming, they didn’t always know what it’d be like.

             “Woo, congrats, Kaitlin!” The group cheered. They were happy to celebrate with her, and they were happy to be out on a weeknight.

             “26?! You go, girl,” Lauren said laughing, sarcastic with the phrase, but genuine with the praise.

             “Hah, thanks everyone, thanks Lauren,” Kaitlin’s cheeks turned red and she jokingly rolled her eyes, unsuccessfully trying to pretend she wasn’t loving the genial attention from her friends.

             Kaitlin gleefully turned her attention to James, stepping a foot closer to him, so that their warm faces were only inches away. “And what about you, James? What did you get me tonight?”

             James looked confused for a second, then smirked once he realized Kaitlin’s implication. James coyly replied, “I’m pretty sure I already gave you your gift before we went out.” He teased Kaitlin, wanting her to work harder before he gave in to her game.

             Kaitlin, unwilling to let James win, turned it back on him. “Oh, that’s right. I guess you didn’t get me anything for later then.” Kaitlin paused, locked stares with James, and put a devilish grin on her face. “Such a shame.”

             James, not one to admit defeat, knew he was beat. He broke his competitive stare, laughed, and sheepishly returned an, “Okay, you win.”

             Kaitlin basked in the glory of her victory and waited a couple of seconds before responding to James. “I won! I won! …Just kidding – but seriously, what did I win?”

             “You won a gift for later tonight.”

             “Yay! I’m excited. It had better be a good gift. You can’t let me down… I do have to say though, getting me concert tickets for one of my favorite bands was really sweet. You didn’t have to do that, especially on just our third date.”

             The two reciprocated smiles, gazing into the inviting face of the other.

             Vanessa walked up and interrupted the trance the two were in. “Alright, love birds, enough of that – you can do that later. Kaitlin is ours for now.”

             “Yeah, time for cake!” Lauren agreed.

             Right on cue, Ethan and Alex returned from the bar, one holding a mixed drink for Kaitlin, the other holding chocolate cupcake with two candles lit, displaying a “26”.

             A few tears of joy escaped Kaitlin’s eyes at the sight of the baked good and the thought behind it.

             “Oh my god, you guys are the best.” Kaitlin was visibly grateful for the cherishment.

             “Make a wish,” Vanessa said.

             Kaitlin closed her eyes. She thought to herself: of all the things she wished would come true, which did she most wish for. With a limitless range of ideas rushing through her head, the ones she pondered repeatedly since she was old enough to remember came to the forefront of her mind: to find a job she liked that could support her, to find a man she loved who could help her support children, and to retire early. After a short deliberation, Kaitlin wished to herself that she would find happiness and proceeded to blow out the candles.

             “So, what’d you wish for?” James asked.

             “You know I can’t tell you that. Then it’ll never come true.” Kaitlin answered.

             “Oh, come on, just tell me.”

             “Such persuasion skills. You’ve really convinced me to tell you.”

             “Psh, it’s not like they ever come true anyway.”

             “Well, when you put it that way, let’s see: world peace, the end of famine, the cure for cancer. The list goes on. Uh, win a million dollars – you know, the usual.”

             “Okay, okay, okay, let me put it this way: What do you hope to accomplish while you’re 26?”

             Kaitlin didn’t know the answer to James’ question. She could promptly deliver a stock response, so that she would appear normal, like she had it all together, as if she knew what she wanted in life and even more, knew how to get it; or she could thoughtfully reflect upon the question and provide a heartfelt answer. Kaitlin took the easy way out.

             “Um, I’d like to get a raise. I just got a promotion, so I think another one would be asking too much, but I’d like to get another raise. Maybe to travel a lot – definitely to travel. Build up my savings, but that’s obvious. And to continue my relationships with my friends.”

             In both making a wish and talking to James after, Kaitlin ignored part of the truth and instead opted for what societal evolution pressured her to say. Since she was a child, she was programmed to want certain things, and now, as an adult, she figured she still wanted these things, but she never actually gave any thought as to whether she truly wanted them. And if she did want these things, she wasn’t planning how to get them. They were big picture. They would happen eventually. They would fall into place. She wasn’t working toward them. She was just doing what she was told, what she always thought she was always supposed to be doing in life, with no real goals of her own and no real path to achieve those goals. She was living her life day-to-day, repeating the same routine with minor differences, creating slight excitements to break up the mundane 16×5 and 16×2 hours. She had long-term goals for a short-term life.

             But was there anything wrong with following what society dictated would be her life? And was there anything wrong with not actively pursuing it or not even passively pursuing it? Was there anything wrong with not following the evolutionary dictation?

             Kaitlin started to struggle with these philosophical inquiries as she got out of college and into the working world and figured out that hitting a certain age didn’t mean hitting a certain level of having one’s life together. When she was a kid, she thought being an adult would mean having all the answers. Now as an adult, she realized all she had was more questions, and everyone else was secretly just as lost as her.

             She didn’t have any substantive insights. Kaitlin was 26 years old, she wasn’t sure what she wanted in life, and believed there was something wrong with not knowing. She just wanted to be happy.

             “So, about that gift?” Kaitlin shifted the conversation back to what she and James were discussing earlier.

             “Do you want to get going?” James replied.

             “Yeah, hahah, where do you want to go?”

             “My place is probably easiest since it’s closest. It wouldn’t be too hard for you to go to your place before work in the morning?”

             “Who says I’m spending the night?” Kaitlin quipped, trying to keep James on his feet, even though they both full well knew she was.

             “Alright, everyone, we’re going to head out.” Kaitlin announced to Lauren, Ethan, Alex, and Vanessa.

             “Oh, get it, girl.” Vanessa playfully declared to Kaitlin.

             “We’ll see you in the office tomorrow, Kaitlin.”

             Kaitlin and James walked into the inside of the restaurant and made their way to the exit and journey to the bedroom. The 17-floor descent was filled with tension, as the cables and motors worked into the hands of physics to conspire against gravity.

             “So, what’s on your agenda for the weekend?”

             “Are you going to have a busy day at work tomorrow?”

             The two made small talk but were mostly quiet on the short cab ride to James’. When they arrived at their destination, they were met by their own giddy expectations, like they were young, green teenagers again, masquerading as old, sophisticated adults.

             James and Kaitlin snuck a kiss as the two walked up the steps to James’ apartment. Continuing their public affections, James’ back ended up against the faded maroon door, his hand fumbling to open the lock behind him, Kaitlin’s lips pressed against his, their tongues rushing to get inside. James slipped the key into the lock, clumsily at first, but then smoothly worked it in, and turning the bolt, the two were inside.

             James didn’t care to show Kaitlin the apartment, and Kaitlin only cared to see one part of it.

             “So this is my place.”

             “So where is the bedroom?”

             The pair rushed upstairs to James’ 10-foot-by-10-foot castle. Ignoring the two bedrooms found at the top and immediate side of the stairs, they rounded the corner and scampered down the hallway, their feet noisily landing on and picking up the carpet. They entered James’ bedroom. The M&A associate’s leased space projected the inside pages of an archaic GQ magazine. The ceiling light flashed a momentary greeting before instantly returning to its sleep-time state. The two were ready for coital business and pleasurable play.

             James kissed Kaitlin hard on the lips with his right hand firmly but kindly on the back of her neck. Kaitlin purposely fell backward onto the bed, her arms pulling James down by the shoulders with her. James on top and Kaitlin on bottom, the two traded tongues and deep breathes.

             James reached his hand down towards Kaitlin’s knees and pulled up her dress enough to place his hands against Kaitlin’s bare stomach, his fingers touching her exposed skin. Soon his hand traveled its path to her breast, cupping the size ‘C’ with grace and poise. A soft groan escaped from her lips, her face mimicking an, “Oh” as she took a sharp breath in and a, “Hm” as she let a slow breath out.

             James grabbed the bottom of Kaitlin’s dress with both hands, Kaitlin leaned upright, and James pulled the dress over her head. Kaitlin was now lying in James’ bed in only her silk bra and lace thong, both matching. James swiftly ripped off his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side.

             The two continued making out for a few eternal minutes before James began to move down Kaitlin’s neck… and her breasts… and her sides… to her legs. He kissed the insides of her legs, teasing, and moving to the outside, then moving back up to the center of her chest before slowly licking down to just above her underwear. He placed his hand against the fabric and felt a warmness pulsate. She was all his.

             As James’ hand inched into Kaitlin’s panties and one finger entered into Kaitlin, she let out a slight whimper, and when the finger began to rhythmically slide in and out, the whimper verged on a cry, although it wasn’t Kaitlin’s eyes that were wet.

             The tension built and heat sweltered as Kaitlin gripped James’ forearms and the couple, in unison, knowing the next all-too-familiar move, switched positions, now with Kaitlin on top.

             Kaitlin leant in and drew her lips against James’ chest. Kissing his strong skin and breathing in slowly, she effortlessly glided down to just below James’ waist, right above the end of his obliques. Kaitlin placed her hand on his boxers and grabbed James’ growing member. Sneaking her hand inside his briefs, Kaitlin then grasped the naked hardness in front of her and began pulling up and down, firmly but gently. She worked James for a couple minutes, knowing that soon he would be working her.

             The foreplay lasted until these couple minutes were up, and James and Kaitlin, with their faces inches apart, gazed into each other’s eyes, each yearning for love, each letting the other onto their insecurities, hoping the other was also yearning for love, and worried they weren’t, worried they were going to play on the others’ vulnerabilities, and just praying for acceptance.

             With some slight maneuvering and a little guidance, James went long inside Kaitlin. The first soft thrust of his hard shaft generated pleasure the two wouldn’t trade for a night in, alone drinking Chateau Margaux and eating caviar while watching repeats of Dr. Frasier Crane give genuine advice to radio listeners.

             Slide in. Slide out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

             With each pace back and forth, James nearly exited Kaitlin’s sex, always making sure to stop just early before completely leaving the comfortable home and then making his way back in farther and harder than before. On beat, moans emanated from each other’s lips, and on cue, ad libs of each other’s names and the words, “oh God,” could be heard in what seemed like dead silence, with the exception of the sheets rustling, mattress shaking, and bodies touching.

             James and Kaitlin rotated positions, lost track of time, and kept expending themselves on the lust, love, and sex of the other. Soon the question arose of: How would this end? Would the two get married and have children? Would the couple part before death? Would one lie heartbroken before the altar ever came? Of course, the question of, “How would this end?” meant, “Would it end inside or on top of the female body lying right before the male?” This was, in fact, because the question actually produced was, “Where do you want me to finish?” and the answer, in this case, was, “Inside.” Kaitlin managed to whimper, “Yesss… cum [fast breath] in [deep breath] me,” while being ravished by James.

             The two ceased to think about anything else while screaming in ecstasy as they finished at the same time. No work tomorrow, no worries today, no failures in the past or thoughts of the future, nothing mattered because they weren’t thinking about anything. They were filling their intrinsic, animalistic desires, innate to being a living creature of the world and not exclusive to non-human beings.

             James rolled over onto his back, next to Kaitlin in bed. Both were still breathing quickly and heavily from the act just committed. James tilted his head to his left, eyeing Kaitlin’s face down to her body and up to her eyes, and making contact, joked, “Was it as good for you as it was for me?” The two shared a forced laugh.

             “Hahh, you’re sooo funny,” Kaitlin retorted.

             Kaitlin closed her eyes, feeling relieved, feeling loved, feeling content with the world. She was happy. She was tired. She was at peace with her life. The person she had feelings for had feelings for her. There was no place she had to be, and there was no place she’d rather be.

             Kaitlin thought about her parents, and the love they shared when she was home the week before for their anniversary. It was the same love she witnessed years younger, from the first time she remembered knowing what the word meant and understanding the concept behind it.

             She was only a few dates in, but she already felt happier with James than she felt with any guy in many years. Lying in bed with him, her head on his pillow and hand on his chest, she felt comfort and belonging, safety and security. She was on the route to the sense of validation that love offers – once mutual attraction’s intimate affection has grown enough to be called “love” – that says who she’s been all along has been good enough, confirms her thoughts and opinions are worth something, and verifies her behaviors and characteristics deserve a partner for life. She knew it was too early to opine on this seriously, but the possibilities still crossed her mind.

             And the sex being great didn’t hurt, either. Kaitlin was so accustomed to guys providing little satisfaction, except for their own, that she almost wanted to give up sex altogether – if it weren’t for her charged up sex drive. She was glad she and James waited until their third date to lose themselves in each other. Of course, sex wasn’t rocket science, and Kaitlin knew that – it wasn’t a big deal. Nonetheless, waiting until a few dates in, a few weeks in, helped the attraction flourish, and made the relationship more about feelings and less about urges, with emotions prompting the physicality of the act to seem that much realer.

             Kaitlin thought about her biological clock – she was 26 years old, and it was ticking. She was getting older and starting to feel the pressure from society and the need from her body to start a family. But she was still young, too young to be getting older. She still felt too young to willingly think of herself as old.

             But none of these thoughts mattered now. While falling asleep, Kaitlin let them come and go, and rather than concentrate on controlling them, she allowed them to ebb throughout her mind and flow freely to sea, as if they weren’t being pulled by the moon.

             But the tide will come in, and the tide will go out, and even though everyone always knows it’s coming, they don’t always know what it’ll be like.

             Kaitlin smiled in her sleep. Things were going well right now. Things never go well forever.

And the following includes a couple of incomplete chapters, as the story was going to weave into and out of the present and the past.

Present Time Chapter:

             “26, 27, 28, 29…” Kaitlin counted the seconds as she confronted the body in front of her. She was sitting in an invisible chair, with her back upright against a wall, knees at a 90-degree angle, and eyes pointed toward the mirror directly before her. It was Saturday morning, and she was working out before the day’s festivities to come.

             Kaitlin’s routine was the same, but her setting was different. Three years after she gave up going to the gym, she got a membership to the closest Crunch Fitness on East 81^st Street. She was no longer scared to go, no longer turned off by the idea of being around others while working out, after the first step of becoming no longer turned off by the idea of working out.

             Of course, she’d been working out in her apartment gym since she moved to the City, but she didn’t consider this a real workout because it wasn’t a public gym. This was because in Kaitlin’s mind apartment gyms lacked the quality of being facey that public gyms possessed. She didn’t see the same dedicated, motivated people every day. She wasn’t able to admire the looks of others. She wasn’t able to be admired. She couldn’t judge others on their off days. And she wouldn’t feel herself squirm on days she wasn’t comfortable in her own skin. No, the past two years she wasn’t actually working out, although the sweat she tamed, time she spent, and softly toned body proved otherwise.

             When Kaitlin was younger, it wasn’t uncommon to find her in her University’s gym, but what was once a normal activity in her day transitioned to a past pastime she was no longer comfortable with, stemming from a bad relationship and a worse breakup. But slowly, over time, her mental state made peace with the past, absolving prolonged grudges, resolving to avoid similar situations, and returning to a tempered solidarity and sorted tranquility with the fact that her mental state will always be a little off but was temporarily good enough for now.

             The day’s festivities to come predicted to be nothing of monumental celebration, but rather just a…

Past Time Chapter:

             “My parents just left for a few hours. Do you want to smoke this joint? I rolled it earlier this morning.”

             Kaitlin was a 14-year-old freshman in high school when she first heard these words. They were coming out of the mouth of Jeff, an acquaintance, to Brad, a friend. Kaitlin was a third party in the situation, standing with the two of them in Jeff’s backyard, just outside of the family room sliding glass doors. Kaitlin, upon seeing marijuana for the first time in person, froze. She didn’t know what to do. From everything she had heard from everyone, pot was bad, and as such, weed was something she would never do. Maybe in the sixties, she equivocally reasoned, but certainly not now.

             Suddenly realizing that this wasn’t the first time her friend Brad had gotten high, she quietly panicked, internally having a dialogue with her thoughts about what she should do. Should she leave and look weird? Should she tell them not to at the risk of being lame? Should she partake and get high for the first time? Should she simply decline, resolving to stay but otherwise not do or say anything?

             “Yeah, that’s my best decision,” Kaitlin concluded.

             “Nah, I’m fine, but I’ll stick around,” Kaitlin unsuccessfully tried to nonchalantly respond when they started to pass the lit joint to her.

             Kaitlin waited out the five minutes which felt like five hours, still panicking, still thinking. She went home shortly after, her whole entire small world shaken. She didn’t think her friends did drugs. She didn’t think her classmates did drugs. She didn’t think the kids around her did drugs. This was all wrong. What she had been told, what she had been taught, and what she had been led to believe was right, but this was all wrong. It ate at her, and ate at her, and ate at her, and continued to shatter her perception of reality, eventually proving it to be grounded in naivety.

             Monday mornings at school, she started to hear how fucked up students got on Friday night. There were parties with alcohol and sex and parents out of town for the weekend, and Kaitlin wasn’t getting the invites, relegated to just hearing about them after they happened. There was no peer pressure for her to go to the party, but there was a desire from within to be at the party. For days and weeks, the cool kids continued to get fucked up and bring their stories to the courtyard before the first period morning bell, and for days and weeks the longing to be a cool kid exponentially materialized.

             Kaitlin was ready to partake. She was mature enough for her first party. She resolved to get fucked up.

             It was lunchtime, just hours before the weekend, when Kaitlin made conversation with a few of her friends who she guessed would know if something was going on that night.

             “I can’t believe that bio exam was so hard. Like I studied so much for it.”

             “Eh, get over it, it’s not the end of the world. And for the record, you studied like an hour before it.”

             “Ahah, you’re right. Wellll, change of subject… Did you hear that Morgan fucked Jamie?”

             “No way. Like, all the way?”

             “Hey guys, what’s up?” Kaitlin walked up to the two girls, not really interrupting their conversation, because they didn’t really care what they were talking about anyway.

             “Hey Kaitlin.”

             “Hey, how’d you do on the bio exam?”

             “It was kind of hard, but I think I did alright. I’m not really sure though.” Kaitlin, standing, stared down towards the girls, sitting, hoping that her answer would be received with approval, anxiously awaiting the conversation to be steered elsewhere from her straight ‘A’ intelligence.

             “I’m sure you got 100.”

             “Anyway, what are you up to tonight?”

             “I was just about to ask you the same thing,” Kaitlin quickly blurted out, nearly stumbling over her words.

             “I think Josh is having a party. Josh is having a party, right?”

             “Yeah, something about his parents being out of town for the weekend, or at least tonight. It starts at like 9. Do you want to go?”

             Kaitlin tried to hide the grin forming on her face, the question having been directed at her.

             “Of course. I mean – I’ll see if I can make it.”

             “’K’, text you around 7?”

             “Sure, that sounds great.”

             Kaitlin excitedly left the girls in a hurried fashion, attempting to walk as if she had a purposeful place to be that wasn’t just her fourth period class.

             The final bell rang, signaling that class was out for 66 hours. Kaitlin didn’t make much conversation by the courtyard, waiting for her mother to pick her up and take her home. Kaitlin was occupied with not wanting to say anything stupid to anyone that she might somehow have her offer to go to the party rescinded. Further, she was concentrating on the little white lie she would concoct to be given false permission to go to the party that evening.

             “Mom, can I sleep at Sarah’s house tonight?”

             Kaitlin spent hours contemplating what her elaborate tale would be, and those eight words were all she could imagine.

             “Yes, as long as it’s fine with your father, and you have to be home before 11 so we can go to the hairdresser’s – your appointment’s at noon. Is she picking you up?”

             Sarah was one of Kaitlin’s good friends from school, but not someone she actually planned on hanging out with that night, and additionally not someone she had confided in regarding the fib she told her mother. Kaitlin was getting picked up by Samantha, one of the girls she had spoken to at lunch, who didn’t quite text her at 7, leaving Kaitlin on the edge of her seat, nervous, fraught with anticipation, hoping that she would get a text back after she had texted once and then twice but not a third time to not be too needy, hoping that she hadn’t gotten her hopes that she’d be a cool kid and go to the party, and sure enough, getting a response, Samantha’s first text to her, at 8, that Samantha and her friend who had a license would be picking her up at 9.

Afterword:

             So that’s the story. That’s where I got to. I would have preferred to have finished it, but I’m glad to let it see the light of day beyond my laptop’s local drive (and for good measure, one of some files on a USB) – not that I expect many people to read it. There are some other ideas I had for it that I’ll share here because why not. Maybe one day I will get back into it and finish it… although I still do not expect that many people would read it. But that’s not the point of this! And if you read the above to get to here in the first place, you know that’s not the point at all.

             So, as seen (and stated) above, I was planning on having some alternating chapters between the past (denoted by letters) and the present (denoted by numbers).

             The past would feature an introduction to Kaitlin’s home life; what she was like as a kid; her hopes, dreams, and aspirations as a kid; a negative memory form being very young; more exploration of middle school: what she was like, the start of depression; her older sister: golden child turned problem adult, her parents put pressure on her as a result, but her parents gave her a lot; more exploration of high school: what she was like, a positive experience, happiness, losing virginity (loved time), a negative experience, depression, world view changing; her younger brother: miscarriage, her parents don’t do much of travel much since, which puts her into these insecurities and thus needs about what she’s doing or where she’s going; more exploration of college: what she was like, a negative experience, happiness, sex at a frat party (depraved time), a positive experience, depression, world view changing; her younger brother: mental problems, her parents stressing about money, which leads to her stressing about money; the first time she got fucked up; her relatives; the first time she thought about suicide; and a positive memory from being very young.

             The present would feature an introduction to the character; the first death scene; at home part one; some present descriptions about the past and growing up; at home part two; and turning 26.

             Beyond that, there were some other ideas I’d written down and planned to, you know, actually write out: some scenes from college, including going to a music festival and trying acid for the first time (I’ve had a thought about writing a whole entire book that is literally just someone trying acid at a music festival and that’s not realized until the end, although of course if I can’t write this, what makes me think I can write it), doing drugs to escape, getting a tattoo, going out drinking to celebrate a friend moving to a new place to work a new job and getting upset (perhaps leading to a suicide attempt, more on that later), and going out drinking to celebrate a friend’s engagement and getting upset (perhaps leading to another suicide attempt; I guess alcohol is not a person’s friend is a main motif – more on main motifs later).

             Or now.

             Main Motifs:

             So basically the story was about a millennial’s discontent with life, although I guess at this point, that would, could, and/or should also include Gen Z, and honestly, I wanted it to be relatable to all because I believe it is a topic that is relatable to all. A lot of times I’m not happy with life, and a lot of times I don’t think other people are happy with life either, but I could be wrong. And I could be right. It could be due to an internal chemical balance of the external words and actions that have been forced upon a person and shaped their mind. We don’t necessarily know what we’re doing here, and in many cases we almost definitely don’t know why. We just kind of sort of go about our day, trying to do good things that are right, and also trying to get some hits of dopamine and serotonin and other science shit I can’t quite explain. And at the same time, we’re getting bombarded with all of these short clips and ads that are ruining our attention span at the minimum and ruining our self-esteem at the maximum, television news of how the world is going to hell, etc. It’s a lot to combat, on top of just the general societal norms of how and when we’re supposed to lead our lives. Do we have to adhere to them? Should we? Should we even be having to ask this question? I could go on and on and on. Should I? No, no I should not. Otherwise, I should have just finished this damn book.

             So I’ll go into some of the topics I had written out before tying it altogether, the climax, the ending, the point of the book I didn’t write, and why I would have written it (the epiphany!).

             I was going to go into Kaitlin’s work life, which includes: a demanding boss; one cool coworker who is good at his job but hates his job; a few cool coworkers who suck at their jobs and hate their jobs; a pompous, dickhead coworker who is good at his job and a kiss-ass back-stabber; a few lame coworkers who suck at their jobs and just go with it; a high pressure culture; no work/life balance promoted (the joke that is the work/life “blend”); the perception is to work long and hard to get ahead, but in reality, it’s whoever sucks up the most.

             I was going to go into Kaitlin’s love life, which includes: failed dates with multiple men; sex scenes with multiple men; a crush on another girl; lesbian sex with that girl, then she feels repulsion in herself (will come with the Penrose bartender somewhat soon after she sees James with another girl); masturbation to taboo fantasies; a male best friend who wants her, and although he’d be good for her, she doesn’t want him back, although she cares about him; an ex-boyfriend who she’s now friends with; an ex-boyfriend who she’s still in love with, but she sees with other girls, either in person or through social media; finding out that one of the guys she goes on a few dates with and really, really likes is playing the field, by seeing him with another girl at a bar.

             I was going to go into Kaitlin’s relationship with friends, which includes: some friends who are close friends, a diminishing number since graduating from college; some friends who are nothing more than drinking partners (friends by association), these friends might be good friends / good people or bad ones; some friends who are not good friends or good people; all of this in relation to males and females, in order to explore the good and bad in both genders; meeting new people, but not caring about them when she meets them because she’ll likely never see them again and they’re likely shitty people, but she still has some yearning to be liked by them or even further, to be wanted by them.

             I was going to go into Kaitlin’s relationship with her parents, which includes: her parents are loving and raised her well; however, her parents put pressure on her to succeed; some of her insecurities, perceived shortcomings, and stress result from this; her older sister was the golden child until becoming a fuck up, so her parents put pressure on her as their last remaining chance; the first attempt at a younger brother resulted in a miscarriage; the second attempt at a younger brother resulted in a brother who has learning disabilities; her parents supported her as much as they possibly could, and they still do; her relatives range from the two extremes of the spectrum, from major fuck ups to rich and successful, although does rich and successful determine happiness.

             I was going to go into Kaitlin’s fantasies of suicide, which include: descriptively morbid scenes of suicide; first scene does not explicitly say it was a fantasy; second scene explicitly says it was a fantasy at the very end; third scene explicitly says it is a fantasy at the very beginning; premeditated gunshot to the head, while having her last drinks and smokes; drunken impulse decision to slit her wrist and bleed out in her bath tub; drugged impulse decision to run and jump out of her apartment window; predetermined decision to drink and overdose in her room alone; drives her car head first into a pole on the interstate on purpose; gets into a car accident, not through her own accord; and sometimes she thinks of suicide when she goes to sleep (or not the want for suicide, but the want to not exist).

             I was going to go into Kaitlin’s mental and emotional addition to the good times, which includes: drinking with friends; random one night stands with jerks who are cool and losers who are nice, most of which cannot get her off; smoking pot and cigarettes occasionally (only a couple mentions); doing adderall, coke, ecstasy/molly occasionally (only a couple mentions); a scene related to doing acid for the first time; not being able to take a long break from all of it, and when she tries, she realizes how engrained our culture is in it).

             I was going to go into some other miscellaneous subjects, including: insecurity surrounding sports, religion, and politics; insecurities facilitated by social media (friends getting engaged on Facebook; pictures of how great life is on Instagram); insecurities felt while working on her appearance (the more attractive girls at the gym; being unhappy with her own body even though she has a good body; going from wearing modest clothing at the gym to attention-seeking clothing at the gym, yet not planning to meet any guys there, although she eyes guys there and loves the conversation); the feeling there’s never enough money (rent in NYC; student loans; money spent on going out; money spent on travelling; she gets a raise, but the money still isn’t enough); but if there was enough money, she’d be happy (she clings to this idea; she keeps telling it to herself; she gets a raise, but she still isn’t happy); questioning whether she wants to have kids (she feels like life would be more fulfilling if she did, but it would be easier if she didn’t; she wants to reproduce, but she doesn’t know if she wants to bring a child into the world; she feels pressure from her parents); not content with her job (not making a difference in the world; not seeing the impact she has on the company or the what impact the company has on the world; feeling trapped to continue working because of her financial obligations, societal pressures, and greed/materialism); failed promises or plans (to see friends; to travel places; to take up certain hobbies; to save money); indecisiveness (was her move to NYC the correct move; should she move back home or to another place, city/country; should she get another job, new field/career or company/industry); questioning whether God exists (an Agnostic; struggles with faith); millennial culture and societal issues (clickbait and lack of journalism; politics and lack of cooperation; attention span; not knowing what she wants or how to get it; increased need for attention; materialism, e.g., marketing, and how “needing” stuff you don’t “want” causes you to be a slave to debts and obligations; the belief that millennials are entitled); all of life is relative, but what does relative mean; and the exploration of how there are multiple paths to take in life, and small decisions can have large consequences (move to ABC city to marry XYZ person).

             So that’s all of my loose-leaf notes – my loose-leaf laptop notes, which I have included here just to show what I was going for with this unfinished novel. Obviously, I tried to take on more than I could handle. Not as clearly, the main reason I couldn’t get through this, besides not dedicating the time it deserved, was not being able to figure out a plot to cover some of these things. In typing this though, I imagine another issue could have been not being able to figure out a plot to cover all of these things*. Oh well.

             I at least did enjoy going out sometimes with friends and picking upon dialogue to write. And if it wasn’t obvious and clear, a lot of the actual 20,000 words are my feelings and a lot of the discussion in this Afterword are based on my thoughts or experiences. Writing with a female main character makes it easier to show emotion, and I believe also makes it easier for the readers to identify with or sympathize with.

             I should also note, while I’m noting random shit less than two eyes will read, I wanted to write as descriptive and impactful and raw and real as Fight Club or American Psycho, hence some of the sex and violence. Speaking of which – the latter to be exact – the epiphany was going to be based on the recurring suicides throughout the book, all of which are descriptive, impactful, and unapologetic, and all of which turn out to be realistic but imagined fantasies of Kaitlin’s.

             Until the last one. She attempts self-harm, and she awakes in a mental hospital. She is lucky, and she experiences an epiphany without a tragedy. But it’s not a Lifetime movie epiphany, it’s an, “Oh, I now understand this,” epiphany. The resolution she faces, and the resolve she gains, is that life sucks, but we’re all forced to go through it. The end result is the same for all living things, so we might as well make the most of it. Kaitlin finds the humor in all of it, that life is a joke.

             Getting close to the end.

             Some unused quotes to END IT ALL:

             “Back underground to the subway, and back skyward to her residence.”

             “Let me know if I’m being a boss, not a mentor – a manager, not a leader. I’ll let you know how you’re doing so that you can get better, and the only way for me to get better is for you to let me know how I’m doing.”

             “Are you having fun?”

             “I was always the last one at the party. Who’d have known I’d leave the party early?”

             “I asked myself, ‘Are you happy right now?’ I wasn’t. I knew I wasn’t. But I was a liar. And I knew I was one.”

             “This would require not only the capacity but the inclination to look past the superficial view of one’s own self, an already impossibly objective task.”

             “When everything is grayscale and quiet / the most colorful path may be unlit / the most beautiful voice may be silent / in dimness and deafness they’re still present / for it’s simply up to us to find them.”

             And as I for some reason noted in a text file as a note-to-self reminder: “Remember to let dialogue and action carry the commentary! And make this relatable for all!”

             But somehow that’s better than the personal considerations I had put keyboard to screen: (1) think of personal thoughts: how love unfolds for Kaitlin; a half dozen or so nice dates with James; event with alcohol involved where Kaitlin sees James kissing another girl; forgives him, and another dozen or so nice dates with James; soon dumb fights and James becomes distant; she sees James cheating again; and (2) think of personal thoughts: parents don’t make move to California because life happens, don’t open up new firm à Kaitlin doesn’t take chances that her parents didn’t take either.

Anyway.

Thanks for reading.

Don’t steal these shit ideas.