Nothing Matters
And I’m okay with that. Nothing. Matters.
Which means that everything does. The irrevocable truth of the matter is that the wilderness of 2016 was simply a ride through hell and back. Trapped in the cyclical nature of suffering and hoping and suffering more, I fermented, transforming from juice to vinegar, with no state of wine in between. Siddhartha’s samsara rested in me dragging me through the years of suffering. I Dreamed a Dream became the anthem that played continuously in my head, looping over and over without end. I would sing to mourn my happiness and the dream of mine that life had killed. But more recently, Epilogue from Les Misérables has been playing. Every character that died returns and sings that “Even …show more content…
Not good, of course, since nothing good could come of parents who fight or don’t speak. Even glittering glass can be strong, I thought. A prince would never admit the faults in his castle, now would he? Even glittering shards can be beautiful, I amended. This past year, the forces of Mom and Anthony took aim at each other, rousing their armies to pillage and salt the earth of their opponent. I, of course, had my wonderful castle in no man’s land. Oh, how I loved no man’s land. How I love no man’s land. I loved being between forces, never forced to pick one or the other, even though the choice was clear as day. Clear as glass, I suppose would be the better simile. Did I have an army? A guard? Any defense? No. Did I pay? I suppose. But perhaps it’s better this way. Medicine is always …show more content…
Some believe that we’re born and then we develop meaning. Which is to say that unless we decide it does, nothing matters, and there in lies the beauty. Every broken castle is whole. Every strained voice is soothed. Every desire to disappear is satisfied. To let go of my seventeen summers and to make summers out of my coming winters is to survive beyond my expiration date. I can’t die if I refuse death. I can’t die if I accept death.
Death
Is
Fake.
How can I proclaim this? So many have died before. So many die currently. So many will die after. How could I possibly deny something so fundamental as death? I can do it. As easily as falling asleep. Easier, in fact. Death is a word we give to the end of our life. Deny that our life ends and we never die. No longer moving is just another phase of life. Life ends if we decide it ends, and I refuse to decide that. Much in the same way we “Must imagine Sisyphus happy,” we must imagine us alive. There’s nothing to stops us beyond ourselves.
Humans created death.
Humans created sadness.
Humans created winter.
And I destroy
And I’m okay with that. Nothing. Matters.
Which means that everything does. The irrevocable truth of the matter is that the wilderness of 2016 was simply a ride through hell and back. Trapped in the cyclical nature of suffering and hoping and suffering more, I fermented, transforming from juice to vinegar, with no state of wine in between. Siddhartha’s samsara rested in me dragging me through the years of suffering. I Dreamed a Dream became the anthem that played continuously in my head, looping over and over without end. I would sing to mourn my happiness and the dream of mine that life had killed. But more recently, Epilogue from Les Misérables has been playing. Every character that died returns and sings that “Even …show more content…
Not good, of course, since nothing good could come of parents who fight or don’t speak. Even glittering glass can be strong, I thought. A prince would never admit the faults in his castle, now would he? Even glittering shards can be beautiful, I amended. This past year, the forces of Mom and Anthony took aim at each other, rousing their armies to pillage and salt the earth of their opponent. I, of course, had my wonderful castle in no man’s land. Oh, how I loved no man’s land. How I love no man’s land. I loved being between forces, never forced to pick one or the other, even though the choice was clear as day. Clear as glass, I suppose would be the better simile. Did I have an army? A guard? Any defense? No. Did I pay? I suppose. But perhaps it’s better this way. Medicine is always …show more content…
Some believe that we’re born and then we develop meaning. Which is to say that unless we decide it does, nothing matters, and there in lies the beauty. Every broken castle is whole. Every strained voice is soothed. Every desire to disappear is satisfied. To let go of my seventeen summers and to make summers out of my coming winters is to survive beyond my expiration date. I can’t die if I refuse death. I can’t die if I accept death.
Death
Is
Fake.
How can I proclaim this? So many have died before. So many die currently. So many will die after. How could I possibly deny something so fundamental as death? I can do it. As easily as falling asleep. Easier, in fact. Death is a word we give to the end of our life. Deny that our life ends and we never die. No longer moving is just another phase of life. Life ends if we decide it ends, and I refuse to decide that. Much in the same way we “Must imagine Sisyphus happy,” we must imagine us alive. There’s nothing to stops us beyond ourselves.
Humans created death.
Humans created sadness.
Humans created winter.
And I destroy