On my way to work, I saw a pigeon sitting in the middle of the road. A man got out of his truck and picked the wounded pigeon up. The pigeon did not look wounded or anything, but I assumed that it was. Because why would it sit in the middle of the fudging road?! Did it’s pigeon partner left it and now it’s suicidal?? Are pigeons even capable of thinking of such things? Of course not! It’s a pigeon! But who am I to discriminate? Maybe the shortage of people throwing them day old bread is dwindling down and it has given up on life. Pigeons have real problems man. Also, how high am I typing about suicidal pigeons at 9:08 in the morning. To young adults, this is what grown up looks like.
Actually no. Statistics (or Tumblr) show that there are more and more people achieving success in their young adult years. Sometimes, seeing a very successful 18-year-old (the word successful is subjective) can kill a certain part of a 27-year-old’s soul. What was I doing at 18? Not writing a novel that’s what! I wasn’t protecting the right’s of women against the Talib forces that’s for sure. I was drinking brandy of the bottle and smoking mediocre weed and just basically trying not to die before I graduate. Good times.
I don’t think I was a complete waste of space when I was in my young adult years (Holy Fudge! I just Googled the age range of young adult and it’s 20-40. That can’t be right, right? Erik Erikson just justified my reading of the entire Hunger Games Trilogy). I don’t necessarily feel bad about not inventing Tumblr and dropping out of High School. Everyone peaks at different ages, and some just don’t peak at all. It’s the result of the choices made for us and the choices we make for ourselves (Read Malcolm Gladwell’s book Outliers to know more about this).
Getting way off topic.
There was something beautiful and majestic about that man stopping in the middle of traffic (it was a red light, calm down) to grab that pigeon out of harm’s way. Or else I wouldn’t be wasting time on talking to (maybe no one) anyone about this. I guess there is also this pang of guilt because I didn’t stop and grabbed that pigeon. I didn’t and that was my choice not to. And that is why that man will always be better than me. I mean not always, always. He could be cooking that pigeon right now. Maybe that pigeon was suicidal but you know what, someone saved it, and that’s what it matters.