You were always better at destroying things than putting them together. You've left more holes in your bedroom wall than anyone else you know. The knuckles on your right hand perpetually swollen, you have more scars than all of your friends, and you put most of them there yourself.
You've always believed that you wouldn't amount to much. You always thought you'd end up in a modest, but dead-end, job. You never saw yourself pushing paper but that's where you ended up. And if you didn't, you'd find yourself back at the Burger King you worked in when you were 15.
So, with that in mind, you worked hard. You paid attention in school. You didn't go to parties. You barely lived. You dated one girl. And you married her. And now, you're divorced. She came clean and you, spineless and sad, let her walk out with someone else. You let everyone walk out. You weren't an active participant in your life.
Your ex-wife, she told you that you never saw the little things. You never took time to breathe. And you would laugh, you thought this was a joke, and tell her you were breathing now, that you didn't need to "take time" to breathe. You never really understood what she meant and it isn't that you're stupid or dense -- actually you're pretty smart but you don't apply yourself.
You realize now, only after watching the trailer for the film Demolition, that you definitely never paid attention in life. You let it move past you. You had plenty of opportunities to be truly happy with your wife but you let these moments slip through your fingers. Actually, no, you had no idea that these opportunities were in the palm of your hand in the first place.
Now that she's gone, you try and take note of everything around. You keep your sunglasses on so the people around you can't see that you're staring at them. You keep your headphones on tight -- playing her favorite songs -- so no one can break your focus on everything.
And that's kind of the problem. You're always too focused on one thing and when you're walking up and down Fifth you find it hard to focus on everything. Then it clicks. It finally clicks. Everything your friends and your ex-wife told you are making the gears turn in your head. As you wait for the crosswalk to tell you when it's okay to move across the pavement, you look up.
For the first time in your life, you look up. You see the how grand the buildings in this city are. You see how they tower above you and you remember that men, like you, made these buildings.