Chapter Text
“And so, in conclusion, life is meaningless”
That was how I ended my final essay in high school. No teacher feedback, just a small frown. We were given freedom of topic, and I chose the most depressing one, the pointlessness of everything. Quite angsty, I know. However I truly can’t find it. The meaning.
High school is usually quite a colorful time of life for ones involved in it. You either are popular and get laid, or are a loner and get bullied. Either one of those makes for important memory, in a time of rapid cerebral development. However for me it was… mundane. I wasn’t either popular nor a loner. I wasn’t either pretty or ugly. I wasn’t either smart or dumb. Totally unremarkable. A strange thought but I wish I was pushed into a locker by some stereotypical american jock. Not because I’m a masochist (or am I?), but because it would be some kind of struggle to overcome. It would give me some impulse to become someone. Of course it could have made me a resentful school shooter, and I surely wouldn’t want that, but my point is clear.
So, what did I do? Not much really. I read flimsy books most of the time, spent some time with flimsy friends and went on flimsy dates. And so, 4 years of my life - poof! Totally gone, down the drain. Nothing happened - and that’s the worst thing about it. Before high school, it was the same, but at least I thought I had still time in high school to figure out some meaning to work my life around. My younger self truly must be disappointed to see me not move an inch in terms of development.
So there I was, after graduation, with the final essay in the bin. After all, I didn’t feel like publishing it. I was wearing this weird blue cap they give you (what is it even called? and why is it always given at graduations?) smoking a flimsy cigarette. An old and stale Newport. Those menthol poisons are the only remarkable things about me really. Picking a brand of cigs one is loyal to, is an important character decision. And people really notice that - whenever somebody wants to have a conversation with me, for whatever reason, they decide to ask me why Newports? It makes for a decent couple of minutes of banter, before usually me and my conversation partner return to awkward silence. You may ask me then: “So why Newports?”. Because they are easy to inhale. That’s literally the only reason. Now that I think about it, that speaks volumes about me. Those are easy going cigs. As I am easy going. Floating like deadwood on the ocean, meaninglessly… There I was, an easy going guy, smoking an easy going cig thinking about what’s next. That was not so easy going: “Should I get a job? Nah, no uni would fuck me up. But I don’t have an idea of anything I would want to study either”. And so on, and so on.
Suddenly when I was lost in thought, someone tugged on my shoulder. I looked to my left to see a petite brown-haired woman, with a tiny nose. She was of an average height, with green eyes, and weird styling of clothing. There was something familiar about her face… but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was. Her hair was very messy, maybe purposefully so. Her clothing style as I mentioned… Something between emo and a rock woman? Then it hit me. I realized that’s my (now) ex-classmate, Tiffany! I didn’t recognize her, since a) we didn’t talk to each other at all during our time at the school and b) who the fuck comes in emo/guitarist outfit to a graduation? There was something dream-like about her, like an actor who mistakes the hours and comes to the wrong play in the wrong costume.
- Yo… uhhh - she began, but she ostentatiously forgot my name.
As I was about to remind her my name, she interrupted me.
- Uhhh… ugh… Kurt, Kurt Cobain! - she said with an idiotic “Eureka!” expression
- What? - I was baffled, out of all the possible options, that was the most dumb one. If I had the name “Kurt Cobain” one would remember it in a jiffy. She said it with a strange pronunciation also.
- Oh… uh.. yeah!- she shook her head, as if quickly correcting a mistake - I will call you that… uhhh. Because of your hair!
As if that made more sense. Was that so much trouble to ask for my name? Was she so embarrassed about forgetting it? I guess my brown medium hair was slightly reminiscent of the Teen Spirit guy, but still it was a pretty far stretch.
- Sure, whatever - I said with resignation - What’s up?
- So you watched Alladdin? - she asked me with a wide grin
Was she high? Was that how fall my highschool has fallen? That junkies could casually pass it? But hey, that conversation was pretty fun, so I bit.
- Yeah, the genie guy - I answered - What about it?
- Exactly! - she pointed her index finger at me, as if I just solved some big problem, like the kid in “Good Will Hunting” - By the way, can I have one?
She pointed at my Newports. I gave her one. I’m not that skimpy, to reject someone a stale old cig. She lit the cigarette with a strange lighter. The flame of it was strangely violet…
- So you just went through step a! - She said as she inhaled the smoke, very delighted. - You gave me a cigarette, which is the equivalent of rubbing that golden lamp!
- And what do I get? Three wishes? - I asked, expecting a dumb answer
- One, to be exact - she said with uncanny precision - I can solve your longlast problem…
She piqued my interest. We never talked, how could she know what I wanted? Finally, after a few more inhales and tiny coughs, she continued:
- I can give you meaning - she said with a stern and a serious expression - Or rather, lead you to it!
For a moment, I thought she was joking. But she didn’t blink.