“They” say to write things down.
My limits are being tested. I don’t appreciate change, in fact, even though I know it’s beneficial and unavoidable, it just completely sucks. This year…this last year, since May 2019, this is officially one of the worst. I suppose that right about now many of us are saying that.
And yet where is the logic in waiting? In staying? What does tomorrow hold that will be meaningful and relevant, and that is worth staying around for? This …. life. This series of twenty four hour cycles during which I breathe and accomplish. Accomplish what? Enough so that my little chunk of cheese provides for me for one more week? Then, we do it all over again. Why?
I want so much to pour out all the minute details of the past month on this page….some of these details are identical for most of us – lockdown and isolation and too much damn time on our hands. But “they” also say “When it rains, it pours.” I’m soaking wet right now, and can’t find my way out of the rain. Sure, I suppose it’ll stop at some point. The sun will come out, the ground will dry, and life will be roses again. Times like this make me hate roses.
Everything is you, little buddy. Everything is a flash of your face, your life. Except, you’re not here, mixed in with me and all the “everything”, buddy, you’re where I want to be…you’re “over there…”
I read in the news of the death of Dr. Lorna Breen, an emergency room physician in New York. No history of mental illness, according to family, and yet this Sunday, she ended her life. Her father, also a doctor, said that she spoke of situations in the hospital during this pandemic that were extremely stressful. He said that “she was doing her job, and it killed her.” I am basking in this story, and while that may sound rude or inappropriate, you see….I see this woman in a light that many wont. She is “over there.” She has done what I spend most of my waking hours dreaming, fantasizing about doing. She had the courage to make a decision and follow through on a plan that would result in her death, and she did it. She did it. She, in whatever form she now takes, if any, “knows.” She knows what happens at and after the moment of physical death. She is either existing in another realm, plane, dimension, whatever you want to call it, or she is not. As are that man in Ecuador who, just forty eight seconds ago, passed away from corona virus complications, that woman in Cookeville, Tennessee who just succumbed to cancer two hours and seventeen minutes ago, Kobe Bryant and Mother Teresa. I do not rejoice in the death of Dr. Breen. I envy her. I want what she has. Right now, I want the courage and the determination to do what she did. I am tired of the pointless today’s and tomorrows. I am tired of the systems and the processes and the stupidity that turn on my lights and provide me all I can consume. “Civilization” has taken our civility and smashed it on the ground like a billion glass balls.
Someone, somewhere, in all this media coverage of this pandemic, said “Why would we all possibly want a return to normal?” It made me stop and think….what we have come to accept as normal. We will twist and contort and mangle ourselves to achieve some ethereal, misty ideal, even though the damage we are doing to our spirits and souls is irreparable. But achieving that ideal…living that lie, propagating that stereotype, bullying your way to dominion all others be damned…that is our “normal?” That is the ideal, the goal, I am supposed to strive for for the rest of my days? To continue lining the pockets of …
Best to not finish that sentence. Pointless ramblings of a pointless person.
My little buddy, I’ll be writing again soon. “They” say I need to write to you, and ask you for help grieving. “They” say our reunion will be whatever I want it to be, “they” say that it is a proven scientific fact that energy cannot be eliminated, it can only change form. “They” are implying we might see, experience, one another again. “They” are well intentioned, and “they” are either right, or wrong. You were my all. You were my world. You were my soul. I swear….haven’t I dried up and died in the past six months? Who am I anymore? I don’t recognize myself. I’m a total asshole. People and their problems….who cares? I died with you, buddy. The only real difference is my body doesn’t have the sense to stop. I miss you.