Here’s what a man really needs when he’s standing at that crossroads, with the ruins of his life behind him and a whole lot of nothing up ahead.
First, you need a getaway plan. Not some goddamn daydream you talk about over a beer. A real map out of hell. Something tangible. You write it down on a dirty napkin if you have to. How much money to get out. Where to go. What you’re leaving behind. It’s not a “lifestyle plan”; it’s a goddamn jailbreak. And it can’t be fueled by rage alone; rage burns out. It has to be fueled by the simple, desperate need for one clean breath of air in a world that’s trying to suffocate you with its bullshit.
Second, you need a few other bastards who know the score. Not a “brotherhood.” That’s a word for soldiers and college kids. You just need to find one or two other men who are walking the same damn tightrope between going completely off the rails and finding some kind of freedom. You don’t need to talk about your feelings. You just need to be able to sit with them at a bar in a comfortable, honest silence, because you all know you’ve been fighting the same goddamn war.
Third, you need work. Not a job. Not a career. Not something you do for the money. The money is just a byproduct, a necessary evil. You need work that’s about leaving a goddamn mark, a scar on the face of the world so it knows you were here. Teaching, writing, building something with your own two hands. Something that gets the poison out. If you don’t have that, the poison just stays inside and eats you alive. It’s not about finding “meaning”; it’s about survival.
And last, you need a hard, simple truth to hold onto. Not a “spiritual anchor.” Not some goddamn religion. Just something you can whisper to yourself when you’re alone on a beach at 3 a.m. and the whiskey has worn off and you’re wondering if it was all a mistake. It’s not a prayer. It’s a goddamn statement of fact. Something like, “The world is a shithole, but I’m still here.” Or, “Most men die at 25, they just don’t bury them until they’re 70.” Something that’s true enough and hard enough to get you through the night.
That’s it. That’s the whole damn prescription. A map, a few good men, some real work, and a hard truth.
Anything else is just a different kind of cage.
