The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F_ck

He shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
Later in the evening, Josh and I got separated. I had
become distracted by a pretty Asian girl who liked video
games, which to me, as a teenage nerd, was akin to winning
the lottery. She had no interest in me, but she was friendly
and happy to let me talk, so I talked. After a few beers, I
gathered enough courage to ask her to go up to the house
with me to get some food. She said sure.
As we walked up the hill, we bumped into Josh coming
down. I asked him if he wanted food, but he declined. I
asked him where I could find him later on. He smiled and
said, “Seek the truth for yourself, and I will meet you there!”
I nodded and made a serious face. “Okay, I’ll see you
there,” I replied, as if everyone knew exactly where the
truth was and how to get to it.
Josh laughed and walked down the hill toward the cliff. I
laughed and continued up the hill toward the house.
I don’t remember how long I was inside. I just remember
that when the girl and I came out again, everyone was gone
and there were sirens. The pool was empty. People were
running down the hill toward the shoreline below the cliff.
There were others already down by the water. I could make
out a couple guys swimming around. It was dark and hard to
see. The music droned on, but nobody listened.
Still not putting two-and-two together, I hurried down to
the shoreline, gnawing on my sandwich, curious as to what
everyone was looking at. Halfway down, the pretty Asian girl
said to me, “I think something terrible has happened.”
When I got to the bottom of the hill, I asked someone
where Josh was. No one looked at me or acknowledged me.
Everyone stared at the water. I asked again, and a girl
started crying uncontrollably.
That’s when I put two-and-two together.
It took scuba divers three hours to find Josh’s body at the
bottom of the lake. The autopsy would later say that his legs
had cramped up due to dehydration from the alcohol, as