Death is not nothing.
I realized that looking and being cool is overrated. There’s no time to pretend you’re something that you’re not. I no longer have “guilty pleasures” because I honestly don’t feel that guilty about them.
“People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.”
Don’t get me wrong. I can understand why no one wants to openly chat with me about the death (and life) of my parents. It brings up feelings that people associate with pain and so it’s avoided at all costs. In some regard, they’re right about this.
We even have a word that means fear of death, Thanatophobia.
Ping pong, heroin, and the summer of ‘94.
Life continues on in my world, with classes and homework and activities. Life here does not stop for death.
I’ve dated before, been in relationships, broken hearts, had my heart broken, lost a best friend. But this heartbreak is different. This heartbreak is the kind where your whole being just shatters into a million pieces.
I feel like I should say the day you died was a blur, but in truth, every second is seared into my brain, an endless loop.
It is knowing that this is it. This is all we get. And it can be more than enough, if you make it so.