I've never had so many ups and downs in such quick succession. Half of me says it's just part of being an adolescent. The rest says I might have a bigger problem, but to worry about it is to make it bigger. I'm realizing that I spend more time thinking about death than life. So this is my attempt to wash this obsession out of my system. My thoughts regarding my own death:
- I never really wanted to get buried, but my dad doesn't want me cremated and thus I'd rather be buried.
- I miss the dreams I used to have about dying from cancer. I always did something honorable in my 'death.' I devised a will to send my friend to school. I wrote concerning how I wished Hunter would change his life and quit drugs. I never thought I could make much of a difference without dying first. You die and people start listening, and caring. People do the most caring in one's absence.
- I've always wanted to die young, and I definitely don't want to live to bury my parents.
- I've spent a lot of time thinking about how I would want my funeral to be. I want loads of flowers, bright pink beautiful flowers. Cherry blossoms. The people can wear black or white, but no other colors.
- I want Nanou 2 by Aphex Twin looped over and over- and I want complete silence apart from that. There's nothing to say at a funeral- it should have been said while the person was living.
- Other obsessions with death always include suicide, but I'm so tired of being mopey I'd rather just go back to being the girl who was so happy to live and less wrapped up in her own mind. Thought, the actual process of thinking, is what is ruining me. It's no wonder Buddhist monks are some of the most peaceful people on earth.
I'm beginning to realize that there's no reason to look for pain in this world, in myself, in others, in anything. It's all very prevalent and pervasive. There's no arguing it. All I can do now is stop dwelling there. I've built myself a home in self-deprecation. If I had to draw it up, it might look something like a Gothic cathedral. Dismal. I've truly mastered misery, others have said that I feel pain and recognize it with a sort of wisdom far beyond my years. It is because I have put on every mask that sheds a tear, I have become those people over the course of time. My own image has faded. That's perfectly fine though, because it hasn't disappeared. All I did was allow my own solitude to turn into loneliness, and allow curiosity about this vast planet to make me feel small. And I have accepted that I am small, but that small is not necessarily a disadvantage. And if there is no meaning to life, there is still no excuse for living it poorly. So now that I've put that all down, hopefully I can leave it down, and not revisit it.
