Some mornings were tougher than others. It was the easier ones that offered some hope. Hope that something sometime might render his life relevant. It seemed everyone in his circles had done something extraordinary, but Joe…Joe was Joe. Plain old Joe. He worked in a box. Slept in a box. Drove to work in a box. Listened to a box. Watched a box. Sometimes to break up the monotony he’d crack open a cylinder. These were supposed to be his best years. He often thought that if this is as good as it gets, he might as well call it quits. His brother called to announce his marriage yesterday. His marriage to the woman he’d been with for almost eight years. He said he was in love. Joe had to fight back the urge to ask what the hell that even means. Love…smove. What the fuck. Two years his junior, his brother was in love. Joe had never experienced that. Inadequacy. Yup. Indifference. Yup. Probably a few other in-somethings in there. They don’t matter though, because Joe doesn’t matter. In his 41 years on the planet earth, all he had to show for it was a meager bank account, two maxed out credit cards, and dead-end job. Joe’s life sucked. He had no friends. He had no motivation. He had no one. The only reason his brother called him, he knew, was out of obligation. What obligation, who knows. Once, Joe got the nerve up to go see a motivational speaker. The only thing it motivated him to do was invest in more beer to soften the sharp edges of life that the speaker had made him so keenly aware of. Joe sucked. Even when there was an opportunity to be happy, Joe knew deep down in his soul that the let down wouldn’t be worth enjoying the fleeting happiness. So, he’d disengage. Never actually allowing himself to feel the happiness, protecting himself while making himself miserable. So, once again, Joe pulled himself out of bed. He made some coffee. He got into his box and continued down the path of indifference, inadequacy, and irrelevance.