Red Eye

Part Nineteen

Sometimes I scare myself with the realization that I'm alive.

I know that's kind of a stupid thing to say, especially considering the current situation, but it's true. It's hard to explain... this hyper-awareness that I'm existing. That I'm just... here.

There's this trance that we all go into as we go about our lives. Obviously we know we're alive. We're conscious that we're walking and talking, eating and shitting, fucking and sleeping. But... fuck... how do put this into words that make sense?

It's almost like an out-of-body experience, a separate state of being, an in-between. Sounds cliche, I know... but it's the best I can do at the moment. We're so fully aware of everything going on around us that we almost have to remind ourselves that we're right in the middle of it. It's like that falling sensation when we're asleep, having to pinch ourselves awake right before we crash.

There have been times when I've nearly made myself sick with this realization. Gotten cold sweats in the middle of the night, felt dizzy and almost passed out while waiting for the train. Anxiety I've experienced, disassociation I've felt... but this... it's on a completely different level.

And there's this sense of uncertainty, almost frustration that comes along with this feeling. A search for a distraction. An impulse to find meaning, a sense of purpose behind this existence. A need to simply get rid of this realization, to block it from your mind so it's not all that you focus on.

I remember looking at myself in the mirror once, staring into myself until all my features became blurry. Maybe that's the best way to describe this feeling. Being so aware of yourself that you almost become detached from your own body. It's like you're waiting for something to happen, like poking a dead animal with a stick hoping it will suddenly move. You keep prodding at yourself, expecting something different to happen than what normally does.

I tend to bite my lip a lot... nasty habit. Chew away at the bottom corner, peel away the layers with my teeth and then... the metallic taste hits my tongue. It's the taste of blood that reminds me I'm still alive. God... realizing how I just said that in my mind sounds disgusting. But in a weird way it's true... that sudden shock to system.

And maybe that's why some of us take risks. All of the YOLO-ers out there that think they're invincible. The ones who go faster, who soar higher. Everything they do is for the excuse of living life to the fullest. For them, there is no room for doubt, for second-guessing. There's no time to think of the consequences, the repercussions, to consider every little thing that could go epically wrong. Every act is in defiance. Testing the limits with every new extreme. How close can we get to the edge without falling over? Because this is the only way we can prove we're alive, remind ourselves that there's still breath in our lungs and blood rushing through our veins.

And it sucks how we're the only ones aware of our own mortality. Animals have it easy. Moths will continue to fly toward the light despite having watched the electrified corpses of their brethren flutter to the ground. Squirrels will continue to try to outrun fast cars, darting here and there as if they stand a chance. Fish will continue to swim toward the hook, dangling on even after they've breached the water's surface.

We're so hyper-aware that any moment could be our last. The one day we forget to look both ways before we cross the street. The one day we go a little too fast and can't seem to stop. The one day we take a wrong turn and find ourselves not alone in the dark. We have no way of knowing what will take us in the end, but we know each one of us is a goner.

And it's not that I can't accept Death. I understand that we all die at some point. I get that Death is inevitable, that it will happen to us whether we're ready for it or not. But what I can't accept... what I refuse to wrap my head around is the concept that the life we live... it will just end... and everything that's been happening around us will continue on even after we've stopped existing. All of the experiences we won't get to have once we're gone, the things we'll never get to see or hear or taste. Once I close my eyes for the final time, once I take my last breath, once I'm good and buried, I'm supposed to just accept that years will pass with new wonders being created and I won't be able to do a thing about it.

And I know that there are people out there who say there will be better things for us once we've crossed over but I find little comfort in whatever lies beyond all of this. I have no true vision of what is waiting for me, if anything, once I've passed on. I have no concept of a Heaven or paradise, of a place where I finally feel at ease.

The truly cynical part of me, at its most cruel, tells me there is only more darkness ahead. It fuels this fearful question that I am scared to know the answer to.

What if there is nothing beyond the end?