About an hour after I wrote my last entry, I saw on Facebook that my friend had passed and seeing all the people writing on his wall hurt. It hurt. He’s gone. And I can’t believe it.
I realised that I’ve always been so close to death — for some reason, people always sort of expect to hear about me rather than someone else, someone who is healthy — and so I’ve forgotten how it can still affect other people. I celebrate life. I celebrate living. I forget how someone’s death can affect some people. I’ve never been afraid of mine. My life for the past decade has been showing people how okay I am and how my mortality does not define me.
I forgot somewhere along the way that not everyone shares the same views that I do about it.
He’s gone and I feel horrible about it.
He was a good person.
He was healthy. Everyone always expects me to be the next one to go. It’s such a sucker punch when it’s someone else, someone who is healthy.
It made me realize that I haven’t lost anyone recently. Someone I really know. I see it often on Facebook — status updates of people suffering from grief and loss — but these are online eulogies for people I do not know or who have not touched my life directly. I think this is the first death that I’ve had to encounter in a long time that I’m within reach.
I feel awful that someone wonderful is gone and all I can think about is myself. I feel so self-centered and so self-absorbed. I feel like an asshole because I’m turning this loss into something about me. It is just touching some real issues I’m dealing with right now.
It reminds me how essential it is to be really alive while you are alive.
I want to be alive. I like living. It doesn’t scare me because dying doesn’t scare me.
I have so much inside me right now.
I’m about to burst.