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Jeremy, Pivot: Father’s Son

May 2, 2017

Waking up in the level of piss and vomit was not new to Jeremy, he’s done it before. However, this time, as he awoke, there was a new sensation down his throat. The hatred of blood gurgled up. He’s been abusing his body for far too long, but he never felt that it would become a problem. He is a tired man, a man of 28 years and only has the future to look forward to. The current present presents itself with disdain and horrified guilt. Guilt that he carries with him that has no meaning to. The tile of his bathroom is riddled with bits of hardened meals and drinks from ages ago, and to him, there was no reason to ever clean it. He is in one of those funks. A funk that finds him tired, fat, and almost diabetic. The current state he found himself in is tossed. He’s tossed between reality and his mentality. Reality was never a place where he’d resign for very long. His sheets are muddied, muddied with the sins of his night, and he finds it somewhat comforting. The only thing he has gotten used to. Despite the panic of the status of his car and the status of his location, he feels normal. Normal in his self-loathing. God wouldn’t wish this upon anyone else, but Jeremy did. He wished it upon himself as a reward and punishment.  He will be, from this day on, a deviant who’s self-interest will always be above self-worth. He started the night before, lazily sitting in the bar alone. He’s alone because that is the worst and best company for himself. He’s given up on life and given up on friends. As he contemplates his stature, he realizes that his sheets are not only wet but soaked in his own sins. He knows it’s time to get up, but he doesn’t. He knows what he has to do, but he can’t, and he knows that he works in 3 hours, but he’ll somehow procrastinate to the last moment to get things done.

He’s a tired man, and he lets that hold him back. With every drink he puts into himself he adds minutes to his laziness, but what is laziness when the ability to prosper is so far away? The time is ticking, and he’ll eventually get up, just not yet.  His alarm will tell him what the last possible minute is and he’ll assert himself to it, just not yet. The feelings in his body are scarce and dark, and the only thing that really makes him feel worried is the fact that he cannot feel his ring and middle finger. They’re numb, and he is afraid of what that means, so he ignores it. He’ll eventually look into it, just not yet.  The cold of the piss-soaked sheets have reached his back, and he feels that they are the catalyst of the feeling he has going through his mind. Jeremy had a sharp mind, one that both represented youth and perseverance- he feels that it’s still there, just not now. Feeling constantly tired as he does, he scurries at the last possible minute to throw his sheets into the wash and get himself to work. He doesn’t want to be late, not for the reason of being fired but for the reason of disappointment. His Mother’s best friend, well her best friend while she was alive, gave Jeremy his chance at a job at the local Target, and for the last 5 years, he had been able to sustain it.

He never really had a good relationship with his parents. First of all, his Father left when he was 5 years old and his Mother, who was depressed, never paid attention to her son. So, when it came to material goods, she spoiled him just so she could claim that she was a good Mother. Jeremy had everything a kid could ask for when he was younger. His two friends Jacob and Mike, who always seemed to be there for him slowly faded away in his mid-twenties. Jeremy felt that they abandoned him, but life got in the way. He never made an effort to attain new friends or reconnect with his old ones. Jeremy wasn’t just in a rut. He had nothing, except for a job and a severe drinking problem.

The following day he found himself in a dank bar, the room was not lit very well at all; but then again, the ambiance means everything when drunkards try to procreate.  The bar was small, about the size of a medium-sized studio apartment. Behind the bar sat a woman donning a pair of ridiculously large fake tits and a low cut shirt revealing the said tits. The men ogled, but nobody had ever passed the test. When she sat down, she revealed more of her body to the world, which nobody complained until they happen to be out of beer, a truly classy joint. Behind the bartender, along the wall, are a few mirror panes, which is to probably make the place look bigger. However, when Jeremy looks into the mirror- he feels awkward and alone. He wore khakis and a bright red shirt, this was because he just left his job at Target. Angrily, Jeremy doesn’t ponder life nor does he consider his next week in advance. In fact, all he ponders is how drunk he is going to get tomorrow. He is now turning 29 in a few weeks and feels the wear of age. Not a physical wear, but one that makes him miss his old friends, old responsibilities, and old life. These feelings have been circulating through his subconscious for some time now, but only until recently had he realized what they were. He finishes his beer in a few gulps and plops the pint glass down.  A small amount of beer bounces back up from the bottom of the glass and lands on the bar. The thought of shame fills Jeremy’s heart, but he musters through it. He grabs his pitcher and pours the small amount that is left into his glass and places the pitcher down towards the end of the bar. He slowly drinks his beer until the bartender glances his way and nods, as well does he. So, she pours the pitcher, delivers it, and grabs a pen to write down his tab. Just like a child given a cookie, he looks at the pitcher with a smug attitude, as if he were to be sitting there with the most beautiful woman in the world.

Jeremy, a pudgy man with the first signs of male pattern baldness, sat there contemplating sweet ignorant bliss. Just a few more pints, his subconscious tells itself. He isn’t an ugly man nor was he a good-looking man. In fact, if he were to drop 30 pounds, he could be considered as a fit and attractive, despite the mediocre face, man. His face lacked something, luster. The luster of character, he was never meant to be anything more than what he is now: a Pawn. He sits there in his Target uniform, taking in the smell of cigarettes, booze, and the occasional whiff of weed. He is a regular fixture at the Oak Barrel but knows not a soul. The bartender remembers his drinks, and the drunkards recognize him, but that is it. Considering that he has work at 5 PM tomorrow, Jeremy decides to get well drunk before having to drive back to his house. He sits there slumped over the bar with his beer in his hand staring down into the pitcher. What bubbles! He exclaims to his brain. It’s kicking in. Alcohol was always his drug of choice, he could never really get into other types of drugs, but this was mostly out of pure laziness.

Jeremy had been lucky in getting his job at Target, and all it took was his mother dying to provide such an opportunity. His Mother, Gloria, had been in a severe car accident and died on impact. He continuously extinguishes any thought of his mother as to avoid the lack of mist in his eyes. It had been a few years, and Jeremy had still not cried for her. Lucky for him, his mother’s best friend, Shannon, had worked at Target for as long as he had been alive and was a major cog in getting him a job. This was done for the main reason of taking over payments on his childhood home. He had never counted himself lucky if anything he feels stuck. Just a few weeks before his mother’s accident, he had dropped out of college and squandered years away smoking pot and doing nothing but hang out with his friends.  His mother knew he smoked pot and drank, but she never said anything. This was mainly because any acknowledgment of the behavior would somehow render her as an incompetent parent.  So, she ignored his vices.  Shannon was not the same. She kicked Jeremy in the ass to get him to find a job, and when he did not, she gave him one. He was always somewhat fearful of Shannon, and he felt that he owed her. Owed her for getting his ass in line and pushing him to do the bare minimum to survive. However, this, being unknown to him consciously, is saddening. He unknowingly feels stuck in this job, despite him having options. He is still young enough to start remedial and old enough to be taken seriously. Yet, he is indifferent to his job and to life. The next morning when Jeremy wakes up, a horrendous feeling of panic possesses his mind. What did he do, who did he do, why did he do what he thinks they did, and where did they do it? Luckily enough for the women of the world, he had not had a one night stand in his life nor would he ever. He feels the rough mattress against his skin, the sheets were still in the washing machine. He looks at the clock and realizes that he left the door open again. He shrugs it off, closes the door, and starts to get ready for work. The time is now 3 PM and his day is starting all over again.

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From → Jeremy Pivot

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