Written some time ago. Found again; typed up, recently.
Four days ago a child from my high school killed himself. Right now I am sitting outside on a sunny day. The trees on campus are in bloom, flowering and attracting countless birds which I watch from my table. The invisible hand of the wind passes through my hair, the warm stare of the sun looks through me.
I feel lucid in the dream.
I think of that poor child. The one who took his father’s shotgun and blew his own face off. Behind that face was not machinery and gears powered by fossil fuels and steam, but blood vessels and the miracles of biology and there just beneath the miracles of biology was his soul, his memories, and somewhere even deeper within the singularity was every moment he had ever lived. He felt driven to find out what was behind his face. It was not enough for him to just be, he had to know. He needed to know what was on the other side of life. But of course this is foolish. The opposite of life is not death but nothingness. Death exists only to the living.
I watch the birds and wonder if he knew a day like this would come. Would it have even mattered? Many of those nights of wanting to kill myself seem washed away by this current moment. Once again I feel invited back into the world, into the land of the living. I am sorry that it took a child killing himself to make me find some new perspective.
I am truly sorry that he killed himself.
I feel better knowing that every time I talked to him (we were on the same football team and had a study hall together) we had a pleasant interaction. We joked around more times than I can count and in this present moment those moments count.
And so, to my friend once removed: I hope you found what you were looking for.