We are all just temporary. That is the thought that plagued me throughout the day. Being sick usually reminds me of my mortality and leaves me thinking about how temporary and, in a sense, futile life can be. In the darkest moments I feel like we are all just serving the whim of some greater master. We are pawns or rooks or knights in service of a yet to be revealed king. This is not about religion or aliens or anything like that. This is more of a social commentary on the ‘rat race’. I wind up thinking, “what am I doing it all for?” and in those moments of bleakness I can recognize what it feels like to want to commit suicide. It represents some small moment of choice and power. It is a chance to embrace the invisible (yes, I am watching the Purge) on your own terms.
Then I remembered how good it feels to love and to be loved. That will always be my path back to sanity. As a fellow writer argues, everything is about giving or receiving love. I think about this in the context of my own kids who have continued to destroy our home environment and display an incredible lack of consideration for each other and for me over the past few months. Where is the love in that? I feel like they are operating out of recklessness and a need for love and order. It is my responsibility to provide them with that and I have allowed myself to slip away from such responsibilities.
This can also be said of the writing. I should be further ahead of where I am, and I need to very much make the changes necessary to fix that. I have spent a lot of years being devoted to my laziness. It is such behavior that makes these moments where I question life feel all the more meaningful. If life is just temporary awareness, then shouldn’t we all make the best of that moment?