I once laid in bed with death, right next to it – our skins touching, my body’s warmth against its eerie absent-like coolness and my weary head upon its betraying shoulder. I managed to whisper a few nonsensical words to its deaf ears and shed a few tears in its unwelcome and untimely presence. I once vowed my life – the one I’m living right now – for better or for worse, in sickness and in health to another living, breathing human being in the attendance of other living, breathing human beings. I once allowed death to fool me into longing for its bittersweet company but I’m still living that life. I no longer vow it to anyone – not another human being, not even death – only my self.
I just want something to last longer than I, I thought to myself as I stepped into the hot, steaming shower after a dragging, long day at work. This thought wasn’t random nor was it shocking – sad, definitely but not surprising that I would think something as such. On the surface, it seems like a legit, understandable yearning but once you dig a little deeper, into its core, you realize that there is so much emotion and experience balled up into those nine little words.
If I were to dig a little deeper, I would explain that I want something of substance to last longer than myself – a friendship, a relationship, and hell – my good moods! I want to become of death before someone else I love dearly dies again. I want this man, this relationship, and this time to be it. I want to just share the rest of my days with one person, without a shadow of a doubt, through the good times and the bad. I don’t need the paper, the ring, none of it – just the quality.
If I were to continue digging, I would tell you that these admissions terrify the living hell out of me and yes there is a living hell inside of me. I would go on to tell you that I don’t believe in forever. I don’t believe that there is one person for anyone. I don’t believe in marriage. I do believe in death and flaws and disappointment. I believe in temporary relationships that unexpectedly venture beyond the platonic level.
This isn’t to say that I don’t want to believe in the above because I most certainly do and there was a point in my life that I actually did that now seems like forever ago– ha! No pun intended, but after the almost three decades of life that I have under my belt, I have learned how to “protect” myself by expecting the absolute worse – death in all of its various forms. By believing it possible to prepare for the worst, the devastating blow won’t be as devastating, right? I know I’m wrong but I’ve got about thirty years of experiences to unlearn. Please, do, wish me luck, though honestly, I don’t believe in luck. Pray?