incredible sadness

i feel

deflated.

sitting upright is a chore. i'm hunched over my keyboard. i don't know what to do. thoughts are rushing through my head.

and so i write.

does one feel this kind of overwhelming sadness because death is truly sad? or because one is so deeply connected to the survivors?

when i heard J's voice this morning i thought something had happened to JF and was actually relieved (horrible, i know) it wasn't as i thought. i am continually in awe of my thoughts.

i don't think anyone deals well with death but i think i'm even more ill-suited than most. probably because of what happened to my mother. i think i was an emotional piece of stone at the time which probably laid the groundwork to my current state of paper flower sensitivity. isn't it interesting how things work? how our minds work? how i internalize things so much when it's not even about me boggles my mind. it's not about me right now.

i feel small and insignificant. here i am whiling my days away. what am i doing to improve humanity. am i making a difference in anyone's life? what is my contribution?

but alas, i guess that's the purpose of death.

it forces you to value life.

in the words of Maxwell (thanks V):

'I should be crying but I just can't let it show
I should be hoping but I can't stop thinking
Of all the things we should've said that were never said
All the things we should've done that we never did
All the things that you needed from me
All the things that that you wanted from me
All the things I should of given but I didn't
Oh darling make it go away
Just make it go away now.'

to never having to say 'should've'

it is with this realization. at this moment. that i once again sit upright and continue plugging away...

JF i love you.

Mortality

Sometimes I wonder why some deserve to live longer than others? Sometimes I wonder if it means that those who live longer are given the time because they have something further to contribute to humanity? Sometimes I wonder if some people would think of what lies after death, whatever that may be, as being better than life? These are not questions I expect answers to, likely because there aren't any, but I also can't help but ask when indirectly confronted with deaths that are so sudden, seemingly unjustified, and cruel (to those left behind). Perhaps asking questions doesn't help? Perhaps this is one of those instances where you just have to accept things as they are and look towards the happier things in life? Value what you have and all that jazz. After all, there's an endless array of the 'Sometimes,' 'Perhaps,' and 'maybes,' 'ifs,' 'ands,' or 'buts' one can pose. 'Unfair,' is another word that comes to mind. But because these are seemingly unanswerable questions, the only way for me to think about death is as a part of life and equally as unpredictable. As a result, we can only go day by day, enjoying all that we can in the time we are given so that perhaps when it is our time those we leave behind can say, 'hey, at least she lived a full life and never held back.'

Now that I'm in better humor compared to this morning when I wrote the above, I'd like to say, "Live hard, play hard, try not to die."