until I had kids, I was skeptical of life having extrinsic meaning. I smoked heavily, drank in a way that would make fishes sick. Before I got married, I routinely trashed my body in other ways: cutting up my arms, going home with random strangers (not always and only pretty and charming ones).
In retrospect, I wish I’d done something more interesting with my youth. I’m not sure why I was so bent on self destruction rather than building or making.