Fight for Territory, by Giangiorgio Crisponi
There’s one year left until graduation, and as those around me contemplate their futures, I plan great escapes from futures that I reject. Others see opportunity in career, but I see only the trappings of modern-day decadence: a diffusion of purpose; a rat race.
The American dream did not daunt me, but I lost myself to the fear of poverty and jumped headlong into the sea of rats. Soon I was struck by disillusionment, and then burnout. I entrusted all of my remaining hopes and dreams to my kids. Then I found myself in a wonderful dilemma, the mid-life crisis. When I emerged, I was back where I had started. By then, my time had passed, and a new generation had taken the stage. A bitter nostalgia lingered. It felt as if I’d lived my time in the World of Warcraft all over again - leveling up my image from one to sixty, but not once recognizing the reality of my stagnation.
Up to now I’ve been getting by with just pretty thoughts and pretty green hair, but this time I need to create tangible value to escape my fate. The products of my desperation will save me.
