Death means nothing to us. For when we are, Death has not come. And when Death has come, we are not.
Non Omnis Moriar
Not all of me shall die…
Earlier in the week, I was talking to someone about future plans. Where I see myself in five years, where I’ll see myself in ten. When the simple fact of the matter is, I don’t plan that far ahead, I never did. Five years ago I never thought I’d live to see twenty five, and barring a small period of planning a normal/soccer mom life, I still don’t think so far ahead. Not because I aim to die, but that I aim to live unconfined,
Death has a charm of its own. As an event, as a milestone, Death has, in its promise of quiet, always captivated me more than the endless squalling of life. Which sounds morbid to the casual reader, but well, there’s something to be said for seeking the calm. My enchantment with the concept of death is not recent. In my gloomier periods, I’ve sought the darker corners of my mind as a place of refuge. Consequently, somewhere down the line I came to fall back upon deeper and deeper enforced ‘calm’ as a means to finding a quiet place, even in my own head. And, somewhere, I came to seek Death.
Looking back, Death really is nothing to us. In various ways, I tried to walk down that road more times than I care to remember. Each time I was pushed gently, yet firmly away. Not this time. Not yet, child. And each time, I walked back to a semblance of normalcy with a blacker shadow trailing in my footsteps. Looking behind, over my shoulder. Maybe just not yet. And that just built the suspense. Painted the charm in deeper colors, more fascinating than before. Teasing and prepping me to stroll by once again.
But there’s really not that much to it. My addiction to self inflicted pain blossomed, first in trivial buds, then in blooming red ribbons that refused to close. Like with all addictions, I convinced myself it wasn’t one. Then I realized that it was one. It was a crutch, self harm always is. Self harm and this morbid obsession with Death, became my closet, where I hid when the monsters of the world outside loomed large. Again, and again. Each time more frequent than the one before. Till even that snapped. Something snapped, because I don’t do cowering. I broke that blasted metaphorical closet down and got the hell out of there. Monsters, in your face.
No matter how many times I’ve flirted with Death, I’ve learnt my lesson about getting serious. I have no qualms in saying out loud that I am not afraid of Death. I am not afraid to die. Not because suicide is a coward’s choice. It’s not. It takes serious balls of steel to go through with something that has the finality of death, not just contemplate it. But no. I will not force it upon myself before it’s my time. It will happen when it happens. I will not walk into what comes beyond with the knowledge that I left something half accomplished behind (cause I’m OCD like that). I keep bending inwards, going fetal till it seems like I will shatter any f*cking instant now. Sometimes when I’m hiding in my bed and crying as noiselessly as I can, I feel like I’m shattering. But no matter how much I break inside, I will never break in front of anyone. No one deserves to see my tears except the people I trust implicitly, and that’s how i keep it. I will break, maybe, but no one will know if I can goddamn help it. And no one can see too. I make sure of it.
Sure, I’ll fall apart, like every mortal being. Till then though, I’m down but never out. Of course I have my low moments. This entire past year has been a forced downer in bits and pieces, no thanks to a lot of people. But I’ll always do what needs to done to stick around. It is what it is, and when the Time is right, I will meet Death like a friend, like the proverbial Third Brother. And as I sit typing this, in a rare moment of cheerful and windy solitude in my yard, I am struck by the simple realization.
Death is nothing to us. There are many reasons to die, we all will, eventually. But there are many, many reasons to live.
So I’ll live. Live as much as I can, in each moment, till I have to die. It’s that easy.
Life, and light,