Having kids makes you happy? Apparently not.

On Friday an older lady looked at me and said, with a very concerned look on her face, “Don’t you want a wife and kids, a house?” I just looked at her and said, “I dunno. Maybe. Should I?”

I was thinking more about the inevitable horrors of today’s society. I am not responsible enough for children and there are probably a couple women out there who will attest to my incompatibility with marriage, let alone a relationship. (I’m really not that bad, but they might have good reason to believe so.) Being tied down to a house and stuck in a place sounds like a death sentence to me.

I can see myself behind that white picket fence, playing with the kids and the dog, working the nine to five and smiling a lot, but I can also see the dullness in my eyes and the strain the smile. I can see that my soul is already dead in that vision, sucked out of me by the corporate forces that I rely on both for work and living. I can see how my checkbook is a means to an end. I can see how I am gunning for my kid’s success to reflect my own.

I think I’ll take the devil I know.

Related posts:

1. The Dream People #30