Musings And Questions/Short Stories For The Mentally Tired

Days Passed By, Part 2 (06/10/2021)

There was a day, many years ago it feels like, when me and this friend of mine got up on her roof and watched the night sky for a few hours. There were hardly any stars because of how close we were to the city, but we watched the few stars that did appear anyways.

And I remember this friend staring up at the stars we could see, turn to look at me, and ask if I was afraid to die. For the pair of us, it wasn't a particularly odd question, but it struck something within me.

I personally, have been asking myself if I've been afraid to die since I was a youth of twelve (12). And in my life there have been different periods where I have been afraid to die, and where I was ready and anxious for it. I've jumped towards and away from death many times. I've had a knife at my throat before. I've also had a knife pointed at my heart, the tip of it digging in just enough to draw a single drop of blood before scabbing over.

I've narrowly avoided being crushed by steel frames, hit by a school bus, hit full force with a baseball bat in the head. For a lot of my life, I've laughed at my own death. But I've never laughed at the death of anyone close to me. I've lost people to suicide, and others to natural causes. I've had friends just leave to go on the road, only to never hear from them again.

I looked at her and answered "I'm not scared of dying or death. I'm scared of what comes after."

I'm not a mono-religious person. I believe in a variety of pantheons and mythos. But for all that, I believe in reincarnation, and spirits that remain to observe. I don't believe in a heaven or hell, but I believe in Karma. I believe that in life, there are those who get what they deserve. But Karma isn't a force that can do anything unfortunately. It just nudges in certain directions, constantly.

I've always known that I don't have good Karma. I used to, a long time ago. But I don't anymore. But, I at least don't have bad Karma. For as many bad and evil things as I do, I do things to balance it out. I listen to people when I can. I hide secrets for them. I give advice as best I can. And sometimes, I make people's days better.

That friend looked at me for a moment longer, and then turned to see the sky again. We watched a plane pass overhead before she said something again.

"I think I want to die." I looked over at her and just asked, "Why?" She was silent for a long while. And finally, she said "Because I don't like life anymore." I nodded and watched the sky a bit longer. And then I said "That's fair. Life does kind of really suck. But maybe hold off on dying for a while yet. Life is strange in how it chooses to throw things at you, good and bad."

She didn't say anything more on that subject. Eventually we both got off her roof and I walked back to my house.

I'm writing all of this, because I can feel myself starting to get stuck in two different old patterns at once. I'm dearly waiting for a certain someone to respond to a message, while at the same time hoping they never respond. I'm also seeing an old self-destructive habbit beginning to start again. The problem there, is that while it is self-destructive, it also is nice for a very short while.

And the fact that I can even recognize these are starting to happen again, is a sign I should stop them from continuing. But... Right now I'm at a point in life where I'm not afraid to die. I've had my talks with Death, and I've made arrangements for if I die. I've made peace with the annoying idiot that is my soul (that I love and hate at the same time), and if I were to die in my sleep, I'd be ready. However... As I said, I'm not scared of death. I'm scared of what comes after.

The people who would mourn me, the grief of my closest ones, and the satisfaction that I know at least two people would feel at my death. I don't want any of it to happen.

I've got Everlong by Foo Fighters stuck in my head tonight. Because if anything could ever be that good again, I'd just ask you to not stop when I say when. But she never sang.