By all measures, his life had been a success.
But, from time to time, especially in the car, on the way to work, as he blasted loud rock, he’d lament not pursuing his musical dreams further.
He’d think that maybe if he’d stuck with it, or maybe if he’d been born earlier, when rock mattered more, or if Axl had taken the time to listen to his band’s demo instead of smashing it, maybe, just maybe, he could have been something.
Something legendary…
While he was rising in the corporate ranks, had recently been promoted, and was crushing it in life, deep down, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he’d failed.
He wasn’t a rock star. He was just another schmuck.
Cancel Culture | Kim Cancer Another working stiff. Another cog in the machine.
He knew numbers, balance sheets, stock prices, and he saw himself as just a statistic, as stockholder value and profit. He wasn’t awesome. He wasn’t kicking ass. He wasn’t on TV. He wasn’t having the fun he knew he could be having if he were playing packed arenas, rocking city after city, touring the world, flying high and riding on steel horses. He’d imagined his life would be like a Bon Jovi video.
But it wasn’t. And it pissed him off.
Dammit, that was supposed to be him! A star! He was going to be a man other men wanted to be; a man women wanted to be with. He was going to write the songs that would make the whole world stand up and sing! And now, here he was, working in an office, staring at computer screens, in a sweater vest, holding a coffee mug…
It sucked to be so… normal… so mundane… And he felt like such an asshole sometimes when he’d wake up in the early morning, his alarm clock beeping, his back hurting and his knees clicking.
Fucking Nikki Sixx never woke up to an alarm, he’d lament, dragging himself out of bed…
But Sam’s worst moments were in the morning when he’d brush his teeth and look in the mirror and see his receding hairline, see his graying temples and the extra pounds on his waistline. He was getting so fucking old. Pretty soon he’d be needing dentures and ass exams…
He started to really detest mirrors, did his best to avoid looking at them…
Cancel Culture | Kim Cancer God, he hated seeing himself like this. As a middle-aged man. A guy young girls would be repulsed by. A guy that people would think of as creepy simply for wanting to fuck young girls.
He hated seeing himself like that and preferred to imagine himself, still, as a handsome young man, a young stallion, with the long flowing sandy brown hair.
Him strumming a guitar, on the verge of superstardom, him in a video like “Pour Some Sugar On Me.”
He’d still dream that dream. In his corner office, he’d throw back his head, lean back in his leather swivel chair, and let his mind run and fantasize about time traveling back to 1988, opening for Mötley Crüe, and playing to packed stadiums, banging groupies and giving interviews to throngs of reporters. Sometimes in the evenings, in his man cave, he’d play guitar hero video games, pretend the person on his big screen TV was him.
But it wasn’t him. And he knew it. And so did his demons. The demons, the voices in his head, the demons of regret and disappointment, those ghosts of his mind that would occasionally rage in and trash his psyche like Tommy Lee’s hotel room, torment him about his failed dreams.
But after their short rampage, like any feeling, they’d relent, and the demons would float away, and Sam would realize that he’d been lucky.
Sam would perk up and know he was fortunate to be talented at memorizing, crunching numbers and easily understanding complicated mathematical formulas.
He knew that not everyone was. But he was. And he thanked God for that.
Cancel Culture | Kim Cancer And while he might not be exactly who or what he wanted, he had a big house, a slick car, a pretty wife, plenty of friends, and a high-paying job. Overall, his life had turned out alright.