To Kathy-Anne... Sit tibi terra levis...
I look and I can see the subtle changes. The lines, that appear, but don't go away anymore. The droopy eyes. The fragile skin. I hate them. I want to go back, I want to look like I did, I want to go back to when I was whole.
I don't appreciate the lines. I don't welcome the creases. I don't think they represent a life lived. I don't believe they are my memories, forever etched on my face...
I don't want them, I don't want to see them, I will them out of existence. They are not part of me, they are holes in place of the parts of me that are missing. They are gaping wounds. They are swords that slashed through my skin, hurt me, tortured me, altered me forever.
I don't want them, I don't need them to be aware. I don't need them as remembrances, as grievances, as proof of a life lived. Of a life whole. Of a life unique. Of a life unprecedented.
I've got them all, the good, the bad, the ugly, the sad. They are not stops towards my destination, they are not means to an end, I don't need the scars to prove it, I don't need the lines to show, that mine was a life lived, was a life loved, was a life cherished.
Because it was never, about the destination, it was never about the endgame, it was always, always, always about the now, the today, the you and me that were here, the you and me that are here, the you and me that will still be standing, when I am not.
It was about them, it was about them, all of them, and us, and this family and this was never about the journey, about the homestretch, about the grand finale. This was it and it was now. And I know who I am, despite of all this, or through all this, I lived, I lived, I lived, my days, my every day, my every, every, every day.
I don't need the scars to remember. I don't care about the lines that show. They show something. They don't show my life. My life is not etched on my skin, it's not engraved in my tombstone, it's not dissolving in the earth that rests above my body.
My life is you and me, and you and me and them, and it lives forever, it lives on and on and on, and it will be alive, it will stay alive, it will breathe, and it will matter, long after we do.
To Douglas... Vixere...
