You sell your soul, only to find what’s left has no value? Shit

“She was just a child, but with an attitude of arrogance fuelled by drink and cocaine that scraped the stratosphere. If her heart made it past 35, her liver surely would not. But no matter, by then she’d be moneyed enough to import a new one, harvested from some Chinese prisoner executed for stealing to feed his family. Organs were just another good to be bought and sold in the market, and she herself was a trader, one of the best, she’d sold her soul to become one and she defined her success in part by what it took to keep her aloft, be it drugs or other people’s lives. Nothing could not be bought or sold. If it didn’t have remunerative value, it didn’t exist.”

I knew a bloke who was once a fine journalist, covering commodities, but decided as so many do to turn to the dark side, to in effect sell his soul in exchange for riches, and become a trader. But … you’ve got to deliver, you’ve got to prove you’re worth the price paid. And he didn’t, and out he went, got a bonus in the form of a P45. A man who sold his soul but what remains … has no market value. He’s got kids to feed, a mortgage to pay. What will he do?
He’s scraping 40. A time when all of life’s great questions come … but what will he have to answer them with?
He could go back to journalism, but wasn’t he too big for that in the first place?
Will it afford his expensive nasal tastes?
Will he turn to them all the more in a desperate bid to bridge the yawning fissure of his ego, as self-loathing bubbles up to the surface?
What will he write about except what he knows best, but who’ll credibly talk to him seeing as he went back to hacking not out of some higher calling, but because he had to?
Who’ll support him?
A man who denounced a stressed-out friend and colleague to his employer as mentally ill.
A man who dabbled in cocaine, MDMA, dope and drink while decrying the addictions of others addicted to substances he introduced them to.
A man who sought to escape his miserable relationship by having an affair with his lonely boss, only for him to bottle it, and as her heart bled and her mind split, he denounced her too as mad.
A man who …
A man who …
A man?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s