THESE THINGS
I typically have a hard time telling people these things. I can’t pinpoint why. Maybe because stubborn misunderstandings can lead to inaccurate perceptions? Vulnerability issues, maybe? After you heavily seasoned your hash browns with pepper at the Waffle House off Walnut St, I was driving us back to my brother’s place so you could pick up your car. We had been conversing on a wide variety of things, which is the usual for us. Romance, music, school, etc. We can talk about anything at any time anywhere, and if for some odd reason there should ever be a lack of words between us, I'm more than confident I would be able to find comfort in our silence. There was a point where I was maneuvering the back roads under the speed limit while you teased me. That’s such a you thing to do. In between those two things, I decided to go for it and tell you what had been weighing heavy on my conscious for the past few months.
I turned the mix cd I made for you down before I told you "I don’t think I’ve come to terms with my mortality." I know it came out of left field, but you being who you are, you responding by telling me you’ve been thinking about it as well, perhaps every day. It seemed like you were almost as surprised by me as I was by you before I began telling you how time is passing us quicker and quicker the more we are living. You told me about the one time you confessed this to your mom when you freaked out about it and how she recommended going to church again regularly might help. After both agreeing 23 feels older than it looks, you made a valid point by saying how 50-year-olds wish they were our age again because of the same reasons we wish we were younger again. It’s all in the feeling. Young people don’t think about these things. Being young is much like a finite version of invincibility. An oxymoron I know, but it’s the best way I can describe it at the moment.
Hurricane Matthew had knocked out the power at my brother’s house, so it was pitch black when we pulled up. After we said our goodbyes, I made my way to the house. I opened the door anticipating him to be playing cards downstairs (where he was when I left) because it was only 11:30pm or so. It wasn’t early for him, but it wasn’t too late either. He wasn’t downstairs so I made my way to the second floor looking for him. I get to the top of the steps and his roommates girlfriend tells me he’s been feeling a bit sick. I was surprised because he seemed fine the whole day, but sure enough he hears me come in and he approaches me. His temperature is barely 100, so a mild fever. We both concluded it was a result of his lack of sleep from the night before combined with all the candles and logs of wood we burned in the fireplace. He asks me if I have ibuprofen and I told him idk because it’s not my house. We laugh a little before his roommate’s gf provides him with two capsules. Like myself, my brother is bad at taking pills so we go to the kitchen to get bread. He grabs a slice and I grab the twist so he doesn’t have to twist the bag of bread back up.
Because he’s not feeling well, he retreats to his room. He lays in his bed and asks me how my night went. I made myself comfortable by laying on a rather large mink carpet in the middle of his room as I anticipated a lengthy conversation. I begin by telling him a background story dating back to the summer of 2012 before I go into detail of my fear of death and how it became a bit extreme recently. Sleepless nights. Regret filled writing. Emotional contradiction. All the above and more. I keep saying how I don’t take enough chances which leads to regret. Am I living wrong?! He responds by telling me "Everything you have now is because of everything that has and hasn't happened, so you have to consider the blessings as well as the regrets." It made sense but death still seemed too foreign for me to accept. How long have I been viewing my life as a half empty cup? Blessings are in our lives every day, but may be overshadowed by our half empty perspective. My brother ended up falling asleep, most likely under the influence of the ibuprofen.
I went to lay down in my bed located in the bonus room. Another thing my big bro mentioned to me was that he felt I needed to let things go. Could all this regret and fear be based on my subconscious habit of holding on?! I’ve caught myself being caught up in the past many times before. Ironic, because this was what I was doing now as my thoughts of death were creeping into my mind. I thought of all the times I’ve lived through. My first pair of Jordan’s my father bought me in NYC summer of 2003. Spending the night at Andrew’s house every other weekend when I lived in Warwick. Eating at Crystal Palace for my birthday. Dating different woman who bring out the same things in me I'm incapable of doing. Cold autumn nights talking to God before I knew what death was. Although life has its hardships, I don’t want to think about it ending. The beauty of opposites is what creates this illusion of appreciation. Life wouldn’t be life without one another. Maybe life itself is an illusion. I realize that no amount of thinking will lead me to the acceptance of this natural occurrence, but my mind can’t seem to stay away from it.
Everybody you see in this lifetime has an expiration. Time here for all of us is limited. This should help bring us all closer, I don’t quite understand why it doesn’t. Any killing is a tragedy and every death is premature. Knowing there will be a world without any of us one day should bring us compassion and unity with a bit of appreciation for the timing of all our lives. (Bill Gates is a part of our lifetime, how cool is that?!) Every soul born is a once in a lifetime time being and we should take time to be grateful for them.
Why is our time limited? I wish I knew, but its 5:36 am and I’m sitting in my car charging my phone as I’m writing this, still trying to make sense of these things.
-RDL4EVER