death

I get in these moods where I feel like nothing matters. (Nothing really does matter.) And that there is really no point to living. (Your life is what you make of it.) And death comes to everyone. (It can visit at any time.) And in the scheme of the universe, it doesn't really matter if I die today or in 20 years or 50. So why bother existing. It's such a hassle, it takes so much energy to live.

Now don't get all freaked out - I'm not about to kill myself, but sometimes, it just seems like what's the point of living? What's the point of continuing to exist in this world, with all these people, with my quirks and mentalities and strife and challenge and beauty and flowers and carnaval music. It's not like it matters what I do - it only matters to me. So why continue bother doing it?

When I get into these moods I'm dangerous. I lose my concern for myself, my safety. I have a tendency to do even more reckless things than usual with complete detachment and lack of concern for most anything in my life - my cells, my brain, my friends, my family, my thoughts, my bones and sinew and blood.

Why do I think of death as something to cheat? Something to avoid? Something negative. Death is not negative, we can't avoid it nor cheat it. My death is my friend. I look forward to the time when I have an intimate kiss with my death. It may be tonight or next week or years from now. So why should I live my life in opposition to my destination? I won't.

A couple songs come to mind, Sweet Old World sung by Emmylou Harris and this quote from old Bill. It's one of my favorites these days: "Only those who can give up everything they have ever believed in, can hope to escape." What about when Edgar walls up my third staircase? What about my escape then?