This is what it feels like to be awake at 330, in my bed, and in the quiet, and in my head. I think, though I don’t enjoy thinking, but I must because if I stop contemplating my reason for being on this earth, then it doesn’t matter anymore; there is no meaning left. But I do believe that somehow, those of us who are left on this earth, and in this life, are here for a purpose, to do something, like the heroes in stories do. But you see, it’s not just fantasy; it is real, and far too unexplainable. I’m sorry, but science and technology seem to only distance me further from the types of answers that I am seeking. Let me tell you though, the moment you cease to believe that your life has meaning, and a greater purpose, is the moment it doesn’t.
So I am here, still, awake and wanting to watch television and enjoy the moments of life that I have, as if they will last forever, like this, and this life is the only one; maybe then I could strive for happiness, and comfort. But there is something that pulls me away from the slow movement of the moment, and into a fiery desire to think of life and of death and of family and of memory, and how I have changed and how I hope to find peace. But the question I have is this; does that moment of clarity and of joy come in this life, with these people, or in the next, with them?
I don’t know.
I want to call my brother and talk to him. To ask if he still remembers those jokes that we shared over a decade ago. It feels like yesterday to me, but maybe he doesn’t even remember. Maybe he’s mad that I haven’t tried to talk with him in so long, while I think that nothing has changed, because I hope that is hasn’t, and I simply see the world differently than he does.
My dad called me today and left a voicemail. I listened to it, and it sounded strange to observe the way he spoke, and I tried to find the underlying meaning in his tone, and not just in the words that he spoke, and I wish I could call him now, late in the night, just to talk, but I’m too afraid because of all the little things that I’m scared of, and can’t face, and maybe never will, and they will just grow and grow, and my family and friends won’t even know me anymore, but I love them so much and miss them so much, and now I am almost crying because I don’t even recognize the person that I’ve become, and I think I am dying, and I think I am sick, but I guess we’ve all always been dying, but I cant remember because I’m losing my mind, and I just want to be home-
So things can be like they were, when I knew that I was a good person, and I had hope still, and I know that I can find it, but I just hope that it isn’t too late.
lazylanguage 