If this isn't self absorbed I don't know what is.

What determines a persons success...money? Power? Happiness? Is success something that you have to dig out of the bottom of a designer bag? As a person in their mid-twenties I feel that I have reached what I like to call my mid-twenties crisis. Mid-life crisis is so 1992 driving a red sports car. Come on, its the year 2000 now, the youth of the past thirty years have been overstimulated and hopped up on anti-depressants, we're a bit more anxious to get this life over with than our elders where. See, most people in their mid-twenties are starting careers, getting married and having babies, or both. I am in the middle of my college career, have a shitty ass job, have no love in my life, and there is no way in hell that I'm about to give birth. So where do people like myself fit into this mold? I can honestly say that I have no idea what I want to do or where I'm headed. I did. At one point. But those ideas have been washed away with time and I am left stranded on a rock amid rapids trying not to topple over. I know many people feel this way I am not the only one, I should really just quit whining. But when I try to hype myself up to start a better, more fulfilling, productive life something like this happens:

First let me introduce you to my nemesis Kirk B Bernard

If you are from the West Coast you may recognize Mr Bernard from his daytime television advertisements for his law services between Jerry Springer and The Maury Show. Kirk B Bernard and myself do not like one another, its our mutual understanding. I think hes extremely weird, rude, and cannot interact socially in a respectable manner and....well I'm not sure why he doesn't like me and its irrelevant anyhow. A few days ago he walked up to me while I was working, put a walking stick on the counter between us and asked me, "Do you like my stick."
"That is a vary nice stick," I replied cordially.
"Do you know what its for?"
"Your shoulder," I state, knowing full well that he had been complaining about his shoulder the past few days.
"Yeah, how did you know that?" He asks, shocked that I knew of his ailment.
"I'm a genius."
"Then why are you working behind a desk?"
With this statement I wished I could have come up with a witty retort however I am not that clever in a pinch. All I could come up with was, "Because I'm trying to make myself suicidal."

Now is it so hard to understand why I have lost my lust for life? One can handle being beaten down so many times.