I’m so happy with the thought of being alive that I feel like my body would burst with pure joy if I were to die.
That doesn’t make a lot of sense, if any, but my mind is in a place right now alongside the wind and the sun and the rustle of palm trees and tall oaks. Because the sky is a blue so profound I think my eyes are betraying me and the sagebrush is dismantling in the wind and the smell of home is all around me, in my hair, my lungs, and on my skin. And since I’m in this romance with being alive and dancing to my heartbeat, all I’ve been writing lately is love poem crap for myself and the earth like we’re actual lovers who can’t get enough of each other’s existence. That is literally what I am in love with. I am in love with existing and I think if I were to die, moment prior, I would be the most alive I’ve ever been and since I’m so in love with being alive, I’ll have died absolutely love struck.
I’m in love with the thought that I can smile and that I can hold soft animals and kiss them and I can nod my head to the beat of a song. I’m in love with the idea that I can meet significant people simply by walking to the mailbox and that there is nothing stopping me from expressing myself. I’m so happy I know how to write. I’m happy I know how to put my thoughts down on paper because otherwise, I wouldn’t know who I am or what I’m doing in life.
In the eleventh grade, when I was in my second semester, my English teacher gave us an essay assignment. It was something along the lines of finding something you love and writing about it using language and syntax associated with it instead of what you normally write it as. For instance, I wrote about the sunrise. I could have written about what it looks like and why it feels so great, but I incorporated why the horizon in Las Vegas makes it much more spectacular than other places and that is, in basic terms, because of pollution. The gases coming from the sun mix with the gases coming from our city and it creates an artist’s wet dream in the sky. So I talked about chemistry but that essay turned out to be more poetry than anything else. And sometimes I want to write in that manner alone, without facts and coldness. I want the world to see how beautiful everything really is, how beautiful it is to be alive.
Let me glorify being alive because it deserves that glory.
I’ve been writing a lot about suicide and happiness lately and I think it has to do with my new found love for being alive. How can anyone not want to be alive? Look how glorious everything is. Even when you think the world is pure shit because of sexism, homophobia, racism, elitism, oppression, warfare, and all the other nasty crap that we need to work on collectively and passionately to end, the world is still a beautiful place. The world keeps spinning and the oxygen isn’t running out and you’re waking up everyday. You can have financial problems and relationship problems but you are still alive and your life force, your essence, isn’t suddenly deciding it’s done with this world and shutting you down for good. You must be alive for a reason, right?
You know that famous question: What is the meaning of life?
I’ve always thought the answer is: To live.
And how can you really live up to the meaning of your life if you’re not living it? And I don’t mean go out and start jumping off mountains and planes (unless you want to) or tell your crush about your harbored secrets (unless you want to), I mean do the everyday human stuff that tells you you are alive and you only get this one chance to do it (unless you’re Buddhist and believe in reincarnation, in that case, why not make all your lives the most wonderful life you’ve ever lived?). Do the human stuff like take a long ass time in the morning to make yourself breakfast and read an article about something that interests you and write down your favorite quotes and compliment someone and stretch to see how flexible you are and laugh at stupid images on the internet.
Listen to music. Do your makeup. Play a board game and get competitive about it. Pet a puppy. Try new hairstyles. Get a cake for no reason. Write a note to someone who looks sad. And look at the sky! Oh my god, don’t get me started on the sky! It’s so beautiful! It’s so big! It’s so magnificent! I wrote a whole freaking essay on what it looks like at six in the morning. It’s the most stunning sight in the world!
Look at the sky! Look at the sky! Look at the sky and be alive!