By the time I hit my late twenties, I was apathetic. The novelty of and all the freedoms that came along with being a young adult didn’t mean much to me anymore. I grew tired of going out, attempting to date women and even watching movies or playing video games. Indifference and low-grade depression had become the status quo. Every day, I woke up and wondered what could possibly make this day different from the previous or even the next. Who really cared anyway? Even if I were to accomplish all that I wanted, would any of it mean much? I was still one person, with one person’s problems, slowly drowning in a sea of anonymity.
After feeling dejected and disillusioned for a year, I fell in with a strange crowd: a group of men who completely understood my ennui. A group of nihilists who, like me, believed that nothing in life had any importance of value, but, unlike me, still enjoyed having a good time. For the first time in a long time, I felt invigorated. I found four other guys with whom to celebrate indifference. When nothing means anything, and morality is interpreted as little more than a contrived convention imposed by a society intent on controlling us, hedonism comes home to roost.