I get sad.
It’s not for any real medical reason, but every time the seasons change I go into a funk. My general mood drops to bleh, and I find myself not wanting to do anything but plant my ass on the couch, alternating between watching NetFlix and sleep.
I know the things I should be doing to combat this (exercise, writing, actually getting normal sleep each night), but the life I have set up for myself combats my needs. I work, at times, insane hours making it difficult for me to create a regular sleep pattern. Being tired makes it hard (very hard) to write, and with so little time I prioritize sleep over a run. Plus I once tried to run when I was super tired. I just ended up walking for more than half of it, and not even at a fast pace. Basically my body yelled at me, saying lowlily WhatTheFuck, GoToBed! I’ve listened ever since.
When it goes from Summer to Fall or, in my current circumstance, from Winter to Spring, I am reminded of the passage of time. I am reminded that half a year has gone by. Another six months of my life lived. And, no matter how amazing the days were, another six months I will never have again.
I am afraid of death. I am afraid to die. [Yes, this is another heavy blog. Deal.]
So, spoiler alert:
There is this part at the end of The Green Mile where the main character is narrating over the images on screen, and he’s talking about how he knows he will someday die, but it will be a long time for him to wait, because if the Michael Clark Duncan character can make a mouse live however many years, how long does that mean he, a grown man, will last.
I get what the guy is saying; I understand the scariness of seeing your friends and family die around you. I understand his existence will be depressing… for him.
But I can see the flip side of that, too. I can see the years of watching the changes in the world. I can see the possibilities for innovation, evolution, change. I can only imagine all the things I will miss out when I am gone, because some day I will not be here.
I don’t believe in heaven or hell. I believe, when you die, that’s it. Like going to sleep, but never waking up. You rest.
Maybe, possibly, my brain will fire a neuron that will flow through my glia, but my consciousness will experience it as an ever lasting memory. Hopefully, if this is what they mean by heaven or hell, it is joyful or comforting. Even for the worst of us, I hope that.
If not, give me rest.
I understand the appeal of vampires, staying young and living forever. At a sacrifice, yes, but is the alternative a blessing or the ultimate curse? No one knows, until you know.
I read a quote recently, and I know I am about to butcher it, but it said roughly this: Humans are the only animal that tells time, and yet a dog does not need a watch to know when it is time to eat or go outside. Humans are blessed with knowledge, yet it is their curse, for since they are the only animal who knows time, they are also the only ones who are keenly aware that it is running out.
In 4.5 billion years, the Earth will be gobbled up by the Sun when it becomes a red giant star. 4.5 billion years left on this planet. Granted, we will probably kill ourselves out by then, but… 4.5 billion years.
And I get 80+, if I’m lucky.
Fuck you knowledge.
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