Your Life Is Just A Breeze In Eternity

... Since I was young I've had a strange obsession with death. A rather morbid child, perhaps. My own mortality fascinates me, and I often find myself very aware that everything around me is ephemeral as in a moment I can be gone. 


I find I have a growing hatred towards thinking of the future because I hate to think of myself in it. I daren't think of myself in it. I don't like to be what I think of as hopeful, assumptive and naive. I don't like to ponder over having a family, a career or a husband because I hate the thought that it is entirely possible I won't be here for those things. I think it's just a form of insecurity that I will never grow out of, an intense fear of the unknown. 


When I come to think about this sort of thing, what first springs to mind is the people I know. Their laughter, their smiles, their traits, our memories together...and then I think about that person cold and lifeless. They would be gone and they would never come back. I would never again notice when they look away out of embarrassment, or be jealous that their hair curls in all the right places, or admire the way they find the funny side to everything and how their face crinkles when they laugh. There isn't a thing I could invent or wish for that could change it or bring this life back. I guess that's one of life's real certainties, and I have concluded it is most definitely life's worst.


I'm reading a book called The Lovely Bones, which seems to convey most of what I think but is wrapped up in a beautiful work of fiction. I am fascinated by every word and piece of imagery Alice Sebold has so carefully worked to conjure through a sea of letters and appropriately placed dots and dashes. The idea that those in Heaven can look down on us, and although powerless to help, they can see our lives and understand us better than they ever would have on Earth. It is like the author stole my idea of Heaven and wrote it all down, bound it and put it on display for all to see. 


GAY.