‘Humans are good’, I pleaded somewhat half-heartedly, ‘whatever you do please don’t eradicate them…’ The Galactic Assembly sat silently, watching me intently, obviously imagining that I was on the point of launching into the case for the defence of humanity, so to speak, but that’s all I had. ‘That’s all I’ve got, dudes’, I added after the silence started to get uncomfortable. ‘I’d really like you to consider that fully before doing anything too hasty…’
It all happened so fast that I never really had a chance to fully register it. I never really got to grips with it. My life, I mean. My life – what was all that about, huh? It was all a bit of a flash in the pan really – all of a sudden there’s all this stuff happening and then, the next thing, it’s all over. I had a chance to make something of myself, I suppose, but I just never acted upon it. I never seized the initiative. In my defence I didn’t really know what was happening most of the time. And, also, I’m not very motivated. Which is another way of saying that I’m just plain lazy, I guess. Which I admit. I’m big enough to admit that. In retrospect I can see that I should have tried harder…
It’s a case of ‘could have done better’, which – curiously enough – I remember reading all over my end of term reports at school. Mind you, that’s a safe enough comment for anyone really, isn’t it? You could have said that about Einstein, after all – ‘Could have done better’. He could have come up the Unified Field Theory, after all. Which he didn’t. Which he failed to do. It’s a bit of a shame about that, wouldn’t you say? Well. little Albert didn’t do so well at school either, so I believe. He cheated at maths, apparently. He ended up having to take some crappy retarded job as a clerk.
What do teachers know anyway? What the hell would they know? That is my resentment talking there, of course. No matter what I say it is always my resentment talking. Creating a monologue, creating a narrative. Seeing everything in a bad light. Wallowing in the interminable misery of it. It’s sad, isn’t it, to be this old and yet still brooding over what my teachers said about me fifty years ago. They’re all long dead by now, you know. Long gone, every last one of them. ‘So what does it matter now?’ I hear you ask. ‘Why not let go of it? Why not move on?’ That’s all very easy to say, however. All very easy for you to say.
I’ve been brooding for a long time you see and brooding has an energy all of its own. Brooding has a life all of its own. When I think of all the times that I have been hurt and put down back in those days it’s like it just happened yesterday. That’s how fresh the pain is. It’s like it was only hours ago. Strange, isn’t it? Some things are downright timeless, and this is one of them. The ego’s pain is always timeless. It’s a form of immortality, I suppose you could say. Not what you’d call a very satisfactory or pleasant form of immortality, but immortality all the same. Immortality all the same.
Happy people are often very happy, you see. That’s a thought that comes to me sometimes. I think it’s worth making that point. Dwelling on it from time to time. I wouldn’t personally know very much about that however – happiness isn’t really my thing. It’s safe to say that happy people are often very happy, but I wouldn’t know about that. I wouldn’t have much to say on that subject. I suppose I’m just resentful of them. Resentful and jealous. And feeling bad about all the bad life-choices that I’ve made over the years. One’s own lack of fulfilment in life is always a bitter pill to swallow. It’s a bitter pill to swallow but in the end there’s nothing for it but to try to do just this. There’s nothing for it but to try to suck it up as best one can…
