I sit in my studio apartment on my sixtieth birthday thinking about how a guy winds up in a studio at sixty. It's because I stayed at entry level my thirty years at the library. The other jobs seemed worse than the job I had. Money wasn't an issue. Then I had to retire at age fifty-five due to severe depression. And starting around the mid-nineties Portland, Oregon began to gentrify and rent went way up.
The town I once loved has been spoiled. Portland was thought of as a good place to move to. Sadly, most the people who moved here were upscale bastards and hipsters. Hipsters are the worst, posing as artists and bohemians. I respect the upscale bastards because they're honestly bastards and don't want to be an artist or a bohemian. Now, the town is crowded, spendy, and arrogant.
I haven't had a girlfriend in twenty-five years. My mom abandoned me when I was five. I'm afraid of being hurt by a woman. I did manage to have one girlfriend for four and a half years. The worst part is that I knew why I was missing out and didn't do anything about it.
I struggle daily to be rational and motivated. My thoughts are often negative to the point of delusion. It's hard for me to do things, even hygiene and laundry. My therapist has advised anti-depressants. I have refused because those drugs scare me.
I'm proud of keeping a good job for thirty years and getting to retirement with a good pension. I have several good friends. In two years I'll get Social Security. Then things will be better.
Copyright 2014 David Elsey