Hitting your peak when you’re an old man
If my life were a couch, even the garbage men would refuse to take it from the curb. If my life were a person, you would take the stairs when you saw him waiting for the elevator. Don’t feel bad for me, I make my life stink strategically. Let me explain. While everyone is out there enjoying their lives — making friends, going to concerts, taking up hobbies, playing sports and going to movies, I stay at home. My daily routine consists of getting out of bed, sitting in my chair, occasionally eating a bowl of ramen noodles or pasta, and crossing my arms until I get to go back to sleep.
I intentionally plan my day this way for one crucial reason: I don’t want to peak in my 20s. At some point in life, everyone eventually realizes that their best days are behind them. That time when they were young, maybe had a new car and a significant other and the only serious worry in life was getting at least a 70 per cent on that school paper. “Life was beautiful,” one might say as they look back and reflect. This is what is called a ‘peak’. After that, life seemingly goes downhill with the accruement of responsibilities, bills and an assortment of everyday drudgery.
I want to make sure I don’t peak while I’m young. I actively attempt not to cherish even a moment of my young life. The way I see it, if I enjoy myself now, eventually I’m going to realize these were the best days of my life. I won’t have it. If I start enjoying my life at, say, 70 years old, I’ll be peaking at an age in which most are on their downslide. If I peak in my old age, I won’t have any peak competition. Whereas right now, if I were to workout, make friends and eat healthy, I’m just one of thousands of healthy 20-somethings gallivanting around with a smile and enjoying myself. If I’m an old man experiencing his peak, I’ll be the envy of the retirement home.
Sure — I’ll still be susceptible to the same inevitable old age problems in life, but it won’t matter. I’ll finally allow myself to peak. I’ll be grey-haired, but I’ll be grey-haired at my first concert. I’ll have a sore back, but I’ll have a sore back on my first roller coaster. I’ll be the oldest person ever to experience life for the first time, and when I think back to my youth, I’ll laugh at the sorry-sacked miserable kid I evolved from. Instead of telling my grandkids about my exciting youth, I’ll experience it with them right in front of their eyes. Don’t make me peak in retirement alone. The next time your friends ask you to go out to the bar, the next time someone tries to spark a friendship with you or — god forbid — attempts to create a memory with you, REFUSE. We’ll be skipping around the retirement home and taking the town while all the after-peakers reminisce on their long-past prime.