So Close
"Can you see them? Down there, or is it too far? Every last one of them is just like you. You can't see it, and some can't see it themselves. But each one of us is a ship at sea. Some glide through the water, weightless and carefree; c'est la vie. Others, like you and me, are trapped in a torrent with no end in sight."
"Is this suppose to help?"
"Let me finish. Where was I... right boats. We are all on the ocean of life. Even when we are docked or have never been through a storm, no one is truly safe from the waves. The changing of winds are like the changes of fate. Pushing us into hazards or safehavens, no matter how hard we try to navigate our own lives. Until the ship sinks, as they all will one day."
"I think I'm drowning and every time I try to come up for air I get pulled back down. I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting only to get no where. I don't want to keep fighting anymore. Let the waves take me under, it has to be better than this, or at least not as bad."
"Sinking isn't better, it isn't anything. It is the place beyond hopelessness, because you can leave that place. At the bottom of that ocean is the abyss, where even hopelessness cannot exist. It is nothing, cannot grow, change, live, or feel anything. If you go, you cannot leave. I think it is a mistake to go prematurely, you are taking on water, but until the ship is under there is hope."
"Are you trying to tell me it gets better?"
"I'm saying it can. I don't know what will happen, but I do know this: we make choices. We can't control everything, but we do have some; especially right here and now. Not jumping isn't going to stop a bus from killing you tomorrow, but it will stop you from having the best sleep in your life tonight. Life sucks, but it also doesn't."
"Is it weird that I'm more afraid of walking away than I am of falling?"
"No. I know that feeling well. I'm feeling it right now. You think you're so far from the edge some days. Yet, it's days like today that remind me how close it can be."
"Is it because of me?"
"Don't flatter yourself. Talking with you is one of the highlights of this day, because at least I know you aren't lying to me. Not yelling at me, it's quiet here. No noise here; god I hate the noise. I feel like my head is in a blender full of chalkboards and nails."
"Agh. That image makes my skin crawl."
"Yeah, mine too. That doesn't change the fact that I'm going to walk away from this ledge. No matter what comes tomorrow. I know it could be just like today; yet, it could be awesome. And now, I'm going to get up, walk away, go home, and go to bed. The only question on my mind is whether or not you'll walk away with me."
"I don't know. I don't know where I would go."
"I've got a couch."
"Not gonna be the gentleman and offer the bed?"
"No, its my bed and I'm going to need it. Plus the couch isn't bad. It's sleepable."
"What does 'sleepable' even mean?"
"Well, you'll have to see for yourself."
A Reminder
We all want to say we were blindsided, that we didn't see it coming. I think we know better. This was someone whose entire career was created from this pain. This pain that we empathized with, that we knew full; we were kindred spirits. His words rang in our ears like toning forks, we weren't alone in the darkness. We we're alone in our pain. He gave a voice to the silent suffers. To be able to give form to emotion, our emotion, and gave us hope. It gave us anger, it was the scream we couldn't let out. It made us feel alive, some for the first time ever. It was salvation delivered through CD's and 3.5mm jacks: Divine_Providence.mp3
We lived and we thrived. It gave us strength beyond ourselves; and we left. We lived and he died. He was one of us. We knew the pain he felt, we knew the suffering all too well; and we abandoned him. No know stopped to help the savior, and as our martyr it is too late. He cried, he begged, he screamed for help, but we only used it for our own lives.
We could keep beating ourselves bloody over our failure; yet what's done is done. Blood cannot be traded for life. More so, his death must be a testament and a reminder: none of us are truly feel and no one is immune. We forever live with these crosses and must acknowledge the possibility that others do as well. Plato said, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle.” Thousands of years later and we still need to be reminded.
Secrets
"What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets." I always chuckle a little when I remember this phrase. I imagine myself throwing a glass on the ground to get the added effect. If I start to really think about it, it may as well be gospel. The lies we live, the lies we tell others, the lies we tell ourselves. We hold our secrets at our core, just center of our heart.
'I am a man,' we shout into our own subconscious. Fearing that if we lose that our selves will be lost as well. Carving away our own flesh to fit into abstract boxes that we can't even define. Be strong? Weakness is sin, in any form. Holding onto our imagined 'man cards' like the family jewels in a game of roshambo. (Calling them jewels is pretty vain, they aren't particularly alluring).
What is strength without heart? What is heart without courage? What is courage without dedication? What is dedication without willpower? What is willpower without strength? And what are all those rhetorical questions suppose to mean? As if a man will no the answer to these if he is a man. A flow of circular reasoning meant for the pinnacle of masculinity to understand. In truth, there are no men.
No, I'm not hear for a debate about sexuality; not today. Did you know colors look difference people? Why not social constructed ideas of gender identities? Ask people what is a man? And I bet you won't get the same answer. Every post in this thread is going to be different. Now I have a question for you: What isn't a man?
You probably can compile a list of safe biological attributes; come on don't be shy. There are some things you're not putting on that list, but you're thinking it. I'll put some down for you: high heels, lipstick, dresses, purses. Why can't a man be feminine? There there are again, those pesky little square pegs that we have to shape to fit. Black and white, pink and blue; conditioned thoughts in an age of free thinking.
Think better, don't drive in their lane or you'll get stuck in their pace. Ask the better question: what makes a human a humane? Man? Woman? Neither matter if you aren't even human. In all your rushing to be a man, don't forget to be human. I don't think you would swipe right on someone who called themselves, 'an inhumane man.'