I turned twenty-six a couple days ago, and it dawned on me that I was about halfway through with living. People die young in my family, and it took that special number for me to realize that my existence was burning out. I could bore you with all of the events that led up to my twenty-sixth birthday, but for clarity and excitements sake I'll recount the day itself.

There I was, newly 26 and old as heck, rose out of my king size bed (you read that right ladies) and I looked at the digital clock my friend Pierre Roberre gave me back in 2012 and realized that time was slipping past me. That sounds so corny, but believe me, one day you're going to wake up and find out you're dying too.

I was scheduled to work at the store and with that came another realization that I had been working at the same job for 4 years while going to school. While this job has given me a way to pay for school, I still get itchy feet every time I clock on. School or no school, I'm self-critical enough to realize that a grocery store job drains my will to succeed in life.

My co-workers were great, bought me a cake. But I was standing there, over that clump of German-chocolate and, while the atmosphere was one of celebration, I couldn't help but see it as another landmark to remind me I had taken another ticket off my bid. When you're ten years old, you have eternity in front of you. When you pass twenty-five, you see that eternity is a myth and you're just running on a clock that only works against you.

I clocked off, went home, and took a shower. I have to look nice for my special night. I can definitely tell you what I did before 11 PM. Lots of drinking, "accidentally" telling random girls it was my special night, saying "OK I guess I can keep the party going at your apartment..."

I don't remember 5 AM clearly, just that I smashed my electric guitar and that I definitely had a good reason for it. I'm pretty sure it felt good to do it, and I'm also pretty sure that I shouldn't have done it. I redeem the moment by telling people that it was rock-n-roll AF and that I was "just living in the moment", but honestly I wish I still had that guitar to keep practicing. Nothing good about destroying the object that allows you to put into notes what you can't express with words.

So that was 26: A lot of liquor and self-destructive actions. I'm not proud of it, but we make choices and we stand by them, bad and ugly. My roommate's glad it's all over as waking up to an exploded guitar freaked him out.