He didn't understand how it came to this, though it wasn't a surprise or out of the blue. Yet, the situation's extent and immovability still shocked him.
It started with hope. A balanced vision of work and life that would support happiness. All key components were identified. A thoughtful path for each was mapped out.
There was the stuff: access to things, goods, even luxury items.
There was work. An employer and coworkers would validate his self-worth. Successes, praise, and achievement would fuel him.
Next was peace—the quiet mind. He knew that place: just himself—comfortable, ageless, aware. No more interruptions would drag him from that spot.
There would be health: a continuous connection with the body and energy, a full spirit, and an engaged body-maintenance plan.
With these pieces imagined, it was all set. He even experienced the joy of this future phase of his life—sometimes, in the quiet moments as he tried to find calm amid his present. In those moments, he would go there—to the future.
Where there would be less noise, less chaos, less conflict. No more difficult people. Difficult people and conflict were a sign of the past, of what everyone called dysfunction, and were to be avoided and removed from.
He knew this plan was risky. Some key underpinnings weren’t solid. They appeared secure—on a solid foundation—but he was sure many were not. He also sensed sinkholes, tender spots, maybe even a large gap or two. He had no idea where they were or how to find them, or how he would have addressed them.
He entered the world knowing there were these unseeable vulnerabilities and that he’d have to compensate to compete. This was part of the deal.
The slippage started early. It showed up. There was confusion from others where he expected confidence, frustration where he expected affirmation, and disappointment when he expected praise. At first, this didn't erode his grand vision but energised him to be more passionate. Though deep down he was scared.
He didn't know what needed fixing or where the issues lay. It was like key systems were starting to fail in a smoke-filled cockpit, making everything unseeable. Fumbling hands felt knobs, levers, switches—he lacked enough confidence or experience to press any. The ride was bumpy and chaotic. Ben heard every alarm and felt every jolt and dip.
Failure, disappointment, and falling short continued. He knew the problem was him, but couldn't pinpoint what was damaged. What is happening? He watched it all unfold.
As Ben drove home down Marsh Ave, he saw the water tower in the distance. Its monstrous structure loomed against the orange sunrise—an alien silhouette over Rangely Beach. He almost expected arms to shoot out, lasers blazing. He chuckled. After passing this tower every morning for twenty years, this was the first time he’d seen it that way. The realisation reassured him: new ideas were still possible. But usually, the same thoughts about his life filled most drives to Playland.
Seeing the tower anew gave him hope for change.
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