Death is a funny concept. I have thought about it all my life. What is life anyway? I have thought about death for many years and its relation to the world we live in. I understood that death was something that happened to people and animals. I understood that by leaving this world, you leave behind many things. When I was little, I often wondered who would take my Barbie dolls or my money that I saved up in a plastic heart-shaped box with a flimsy plastic lock. I would tell my siblings but they would joke around with the idea telling me that they would take my things after I was gone. But I would feel strange. Like my thoughts weren’t normal. Like constantly wondering about your own death and the repercussions that it would have were something normal little girls would not think about. I didn’t like to joke around with death but I did like to think about the emotions associated with it. Was it strange? Freaky and unnatural?
I think about my mortality every day, regardless of mood. However, mood helps me realize what kind of death I think about. A relatively good or neutral mood might conjure up the death of others and how I would cope with the idea of a stranger, a friend, or a family member being deceased. But a bad mood is a different story. A bad mood spirals hate and self-loathing. In other words, my death.
When you think about suicide most people cringe and call you mentally ill. When you over-think a way or a time that you would not like to die, people say you have anxiety. But when you really truly believe that life is given to you when you think it should go to someone else more deserving… then that is a whole other subject. What does that even make you? A humble person? No… An altruistic person? (In some way) Probably not… A depressed person? Possibly… An undeserving person? Sounds right… An ungrateful person? Maybe… The list can drag on and on. No certain answer. I have felt this more recently: Why life chose me? And am I doing the best I can with it? I would also say no to the latter. I feel like giving someone my skin and flesh in exchange for their own. But the cycle would just continue for me. Until I am lower and lower on the ranks of humanity. Until I could possibly not take it anymore. (But I probably would stick it out because of my personality.) And perish out of my lack of satisfaction with life.
There are deep feelings and words that I cannot share with you today. I cannot see life as an option sometimes when I know that I cannot save a life of another. Maybe I just want them to replace me. What if I were able to make that happen? What if they turn out to be a bad person? What if they don’t? They walk around with my body and are free to do whatever they want to it. Unsettling thoughts. Relieving thoughts.
The only out-of-body experiences I’ve had were in a couple of dreams. They felt right somehow. I have watched many things in my life. I feel like the voyeur and not the main actor. I would screw up my lines and laugh too much. Not an accomplishment, but it sums up many of the accomplishments that I have made.
So live your life. Look at your face and body. Inspect your hands. This is real. And it is really happening.