-Ms. Regina Spektor.
Do we all want that?
There's so much to say, so much time and so little time. I don't know where to start it.
I feel like a failure because I can't get that song... So I learn easier ones? What am I doing?
What?
WHAT?
Yeah, that's pretty much it. I feel like a Gershwin piece for the orchestra... I feel like moving to Taiping and becoming Buddhist and spending the rest of my life sans contact save for music, piano, journal, pen pencil... In the off-somewhere, just thinking. We're all going to die with something missing from us; you know that, right? We're all buried when death untangles the navels and we're buried under some minerals and some worms who know.
I do think that some people know... That woman in the middle of the road.
And then there was that man without a leg, not even begging. He was just sitting in the shade of a highway overpass.
And the girl with a bandanna to cover nothing. She was younger than me. It was wrong.
And greeters at the stores who don't smile; and the greeters at the doors who smile but wish they wouldn't have to.
And the people in alleys with no chances and no choices.
That's life at its truest. It's pure and it's raw; it's unfiltered and it's ready to understand right now.
And then there's the balance:
We need a belief. We need love. We need kindness and personality and understanding.
But there's something else that I know that we're missing. And this bothers me every single day of my life... All of the moments I spend trying to be a good person but I still feel filthy; all of the moments I spent acting selfishly and I think nothing of it until it is too late... All of the moments that I breathe anything, anything, anything: the thought is always there.
And it's always nagging at me.
It's always telling me there's something missing from the world and from our knowledge that I can't die until I find. I can't die without knowing this one thing, but I do not know what this thing is or how to find it. It's like life has asked me to complete a task but continued no further than the last and the first instruction. It has left me with nothing but a want. I will discover this unimaginable trait one day. I'm afraid that I'll turn insane in the process.
It is all about how we curdle.
We all curdle and crumble and cook up, fry up differently. We will all lead different lives and want the same things. We will all follow the same death.
A FUNNY THING:
Anesthesia. It is truly funny.
Because we can withstand a stab wound and we can stand on buildings and scream like little beaten eggs; we can write beautiful, timeless pieces of orchestral proportions, we can glue macaroni and cheese to paper and make a heart melt.
I can go
and I can
do whatever I like.
But when you give me anesthetics, I will fall asleep. And that makes me laugh because we think we are capable of so much, but when we are given a tiny dose of a chemical we are under its control. No matter who you are, let's face the facts:
-You will fall asleep.
-You will get sad.
-You will die.
And that's life in its harshest form. We all need to accept that. I wonder what will matter to me when I'm almost done. I won't remember faces or names or foods or hobbies or loves or nightmares... I won't want to remember. Dying is just an event like all else; it is a soccer game and a concert and a school dance... Just go with it.
The sweet little crickets are humming outside of my window and the clock is telling me that it is 10:47 pm. I don't agree with either one.
You know what's beautiful? Caring for a creature that cannot care for itself, like a baby or a dog or a cat. Imagine the daily relief (unobserved yet unconscious) of a creature such as this. Sometimes the beauty of it makes me want to cry when I look at my own pets and I wonder where they'd be if we hadn't have taken them. If I can save something, I will.
Reading is a good thing.
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