The Orgins of A Life Wasted

     "Of course, she had a boyfriend," James thought. You never know when you step into that brief moment in time that forever alters your path. After that, James buried himself in his studies and the consumption of pseudo-Italian fare. He only found solace for the next four years while washing a large Papa John's pizza down with a two-liter Sprite. Yet as the numbers on the scale increased, so did his GPA. 

    James believed the world would finally find meaning when his intellectual equals accepted him into Harvard. Due to a clerical error and minor technicality, James's classmates did not hear him speak as valedictorian. As salutatorian, he was a mere onlooker on graduation day. As his classmates smiled and laughed he could only think, "Of course, she had a boyfriend."  

    Despite the disappointment of attending his safety school, Stanford, James almost felt at home. His professors began to recognize his potential in a budding Psychology student. James saw the potential for satisfaction as an expert in Interpersonal Psychotherapy. A unique mind in a specialized field where no one would be able to dispute his success. 

    He braced for the final four steps to the library, imagining himself smiling as an admiring crowd clapped for his groundbreaking research. With full arms, he stumbled and tripped on the steps—books scattered on the concrete as he scraped his hands and knees. Though the sting of raw flesh nothing compared to the embarrassment he felt. Three beautiful coeds barley attempted to cover their mouths while audibly laughing. "She had a boyfriend," whispered James. 

    No amount of knowledge could take his feelings away. That night unknown forces compelled the lonely graduate to the gym. He experienced a new high as he quite literally attempted to chase away an inferiority complex. James lifted weights and ran laps between his studies hunting for the physical liberation he had known that first night in the gym.

    In those four years, James packed on muscle and academic accolades. He emerged from his journey six-pack-clad as one of the most decorated PhD candidates in the program's history. That year starting his practice almost felt too easy. Everything fell into place effortlessly. The spot in his garage occupied by an old 2004 Honda Accord was replaced by a shiny new Porsche. Yet every night that familiar ache crept back into his mind. Inside he still felt empty.

     Four years into his practice, the successful bachelor found something that numbed the angst. A shy librarian named Lola. Her unassuming nature and thick square glasses seemed reminiscent of something from his past. Though they had only spent a few nights together, James discovered something exciting and new. 

    Over the next four decades, James' practice grew, and so did the list with Lola's name at the top. James found it easy to attract women with his outward success and charm, yet each embrace was only a dose of physical Prozac. Each one night stand lead to an unread text for the unknowing woman staring into her phone. How many martyrs would fall in his empty pursuit? A trail of emotional collateral trailed with each step.

    Raindrops filled the spaces on his windshield as a graying James sat alone in his car. He prepared mentally to speak to a room full of PhD. candidates at his Alma Mater. His gift to the world would be advice on how to create post-doctoral success. It was time to go. This was all he had to show.

    Getting out of a Porsche grew more complicated with each passing year. He adjusted his suit on the street, as an old Honda Accord sped past a bus. Slick conditions never paid James in favors. The driver struck the handsome silhouette at a deadly speed. 

    Lying on the windshield, he struggled to breathe, as he had struggled to find purpose. James had no answers to what he had been chasing all these years. With his last four seconds, the broken man felt just like that vulnerable freshman again. A faint sentence came out with a final exhale, "She had a boyfriend."