If My Life (up till now) was a College Party

One of the great things of meditation is that you can do it anywhere, even if it’s only for a few seconds in the most randomness places.

Such as 2 nights ago during a speech contest hosted by my club (that’s a different story). The epiphany was if my life was to be metaphorically represented by a college part, it’d go something like this:

And this is what came to me:

  • I come to the party several hours early, having gotten the invitation on my own.
  • When I arrive, there’s nobody there to celebrate with yet
  • I find out that I’ve come to the party with a few people who in turn give me some alcohol and drugs with the intention that it will help me enjoy the party.
  • Unfortunately, the stuff worked too well. And for the rest of the party, I was in an extremely drunken state.
  • What seems like an eternity later, I wake up with a massive hangover. After waking up, I am promptly notified of the damage I had done the night before.
  • It is then that I realize to my other dismay and shock that I had done an incredible amount of personal and emotional damage during my blackout
  • Still reeling from disbelief and shock, I am reminded angrily by my friends, acquaintances, and the random people that I met during this “party” that I am the one at fault for a completely destroying and ruining the experience of the party.
  • I am the guy who under the influence of massive amounts of alcohol and illegal drugs, blacked out and violated every single social construct. I was the guy who started hitting on the girlfriends of other men. I was the partygoer who had extreme mood swings had the hateful temper and became angry at every small infraction.
  • I was also the sad drunk who started talking to every soul who was willing to listen, on the meanwhile playing the victim card; this went on and on despite the fact that I not only did not remember “who gave” me the drugs, but also was still hanging out with said people in the vicinity!
  • Conclusion: I’m still paying for all the damages to the party venue. Not to mention my damaged reputation and the friends who I should have treated as such.

So extending this metaphor even more. I “wake up” hung over wondering what the hell happened at age 27, but I only just recovered from the hangover this year – at age 30.

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