It's strange to think how death-centric we all are. We live to fear, spite, or even to cheat it. Lots of us live our lives for the after-death. It's pretty much the only thing we care about.
I'd like to say that I live my life for love---but that's not entirely true. I love in spite of death; which is an ironic way to birth love, if you ask me. People don't like to get attached because life is fleeting, people leave, people die. But doesn't that just make you want to get closer to someone? To connect with them in an entirely human way because you just don't know how long we have?
Don't you want to make the most out of every experience, every relationship?
This fear of death doesn't paralyze me, I don't think. It compels me to take chances, to risk stability and comfort; because really? Who the fuck cares about what you do? What place do they hold in the ivory tower of saintdom that they can judge someone else? We all have our reasons.
I'm not scared of taking chances. I'm scared of who I'll become and the sort life I'll lead if I don't.
I'm still processing my thoughts on my 'termination'. It's not the same as when I was a kid. We just laughed it off because it was just something for me to do, someway for me to feel like an important part of the family. But now? It's bitter. It's hurtful.
There are pressures none of us have control over---piling hospital bills and a bad economy can tear people apart. We don't laugh anymore. We don't talk anymore. My dad created a distance between us because he's suffering and doesn't want to burden us with his grief.
All that tension was too much for me. We exploded. I screamed at him---for the first time in my life, I yelled at my father.
I still hear his words ringing in my ears. I still see the loathing in his eyes.
I'm not the only one getting on the unemployment line. Andrew is next to go, I'm sure of it. I can see the agitation in my father's face. My heart sinks.
He knows, too. He's sad, yes, but he's also tired---just as I am. Maybe it's for the best?
I know I'm a little pissed off at him right now, but the nasty bugger weaseled his way into my life and family and things would just seem wrong without him there.
Sometimes I think that we get along so well. We just click. It's annoying. I smile too much when he's around.
Whatever. That's too much to think about.
Back to chemistry...
P.S. Life is stupid. Perhaps death will be fun.
P.P.S. This all seem so conundrumic. A little contradictory, even.
P.P.P.S. I'm going to be a lawyer.