The hardest thing in this world is to live in it.
Joss Whedon, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Sometimes that is the truth.
I have shit days, we all do.
The ones where we just want it to end, whatever mask ‘it’ is wearing that day.
Masks don’t last, wounds heal and eventually things get better.
Hot Neighbor is always asking me if whatever is vexing me in that moment is going to bother me in a year. My answers vary from a ‘Probably not’ to a chuckling ‘nope’. Then he hugs me and I feel less busted than I did before I said the thing out loud. He is leveling up at lightning speed and keeps asking me to join him. With his gentle nudges and check-ins that all sound like “Sarah, evolve, its time now.”
I ask after his Russian nesting doll and he shows up when I need him.
So there is that then.
The hardest thing I ever had to do was forgive someone who wasn’t sorry.
It’s actually not that bad. You should try it sometime.
Once you have done it, it gets really easy.
I’ve done it and I’ll do it again a few dozen times before my life ends.
Here’s how, in one easy step.
Everyone has their own perception and reality.
Matter changes when observed, so me being near you will alter your behavior to a degree, but the microcosm that is you, is still you. We have this immediate second that we live in and everything else is just stored data. As creatures with active imaginations and sometimes/often corrupt filing systems for memories, sometimes the data gets distorted and no amount of arguing or worry on my part is going to allow me to change your mind. Whatever you think happened is your hardwired reality. So be it.
So that isn’t it either.
I think the hardest part of the human condition is saying good bye to someone who is still alive.
I avoid it like the plague.
‘Cause when you’re done with this world
You know the next is up to you
It IS up to me, and for a long time I didn’t know what world I wanted to live in.
The fear of the great unknown keeping me tethered to the Walking Dead. Just like Michonne and her walkers on leashes, no arms to hold me, no teeth to bite me neither, but damn they smelled bad and held me back.
The severance becomes exponentially harder when there are invisible threads and entangled particles.
I went to a funeral once and a Buddhist monk came with a ball of string. I am not sure what the purpose was but when he cut it I felt a palpable release, like she was free.
I have been wrong this whole time, I don’t need an exorcism with an old priest and a young priest, I need a monk with scissors and a ball of string
I wrote a thing once and now it’s making me cringe. That happens a lot.
Something along the lines of ‘when given the choice between the devil you know and the devil you don’t stick with the familiar, he will probably hurt you like he has before, but at least you know how to tend to your wounds.’
That is a shitty philosophy. The girl who wrote that is dead to me now. I have no problem burying older outdated versions of me, I don’t even bother with flowers on their graves anymore, just smile wistfully now and again, thinking ‘you silly bitch, thanks for the lessons on what we ought not to do again ever.’
Catharsis is easier when there is a cataclysmic event to accompany it.
“Traitor child. I must despise you now”
Queen Bavmorda, Willow
But what happens when there is no blow out.
What if you just drift apart slowly?
What if you really like being near that person because your soul feels good but because of circumstances beyond your control (see above where their reality is different than yours) it ain’t working anymore.
That my friends, is the heaviest door to close.
There is no fanfare or funeral or closing ceremony.
It just is, becomes it just isn’t.
I think that’s why the easy way out is what everyone else seems to do which is flip the switch between I have you to I hate you.
I don’t hate anyone because a huge part of what I am is understanding. So it’s hard for me.
Damn near impossible.
Probably because I see walls where there are actually doors and vice versa. I have bloodied my knuckles knocking on doors that once were opened to me but have now been locked/bricked over.
Watching through my fingers, watching through my fingers
Caught off guard by your favorite song
Oh I’ll be dancing at a funeral, dancing at a funeral
Sleeping in the clothes you love
It’s such a shame we had to see them burn, shame we had to see them burn
What’s gonna be left of the world if you’re not in it?
What’s gonna be left of the world, oh
Every minute and every hour
I miss you, I miss you, I miss you more
Every stumble and each misfire
I miss you, I miss you, I miss you more
What is going to be left of this world without them in it?
I am all I ever had anyways.
All the things they left behind, all the things I became when my particles met theirs and my atoms changed and transformed from being tangled up with them.
This I get to keep.
I’m gonna go ahead and do what Joseph Campbell suggested and cleanse my doors of perception and wander out into the infinite.
They can stay in that graveyard where I buried all the previous versions of me. Keeping each other company.
No funeral required.
…and if the moon walks out, the sky will understand