Results of a Restless Mind

Heartbeat

I know that it is not wrong to fear the cold hand of death. The prospect of it to our human minds, the trapping cage that really defines life. Is that all it is? Just an end destination, a fear through the nation, an unknown time and place where you will come face to face with Thanatos. Now I'm not talking about some comic book character, no this is an all-powerful being of nature, an idea, a word to describe the end that is nigh. This is death. No matter what language it is all the same no matter what gender, religion if you're poor or a known name, this is death. It is equal. Fair. It judges not by skin or money or worth it is not simply how you ran the race it is fate. But fate is a concept created to cater to the people looking for an excuse to matter the ones who falter under someones gaze when they ask you when you die who will remember your name? No one. Because 'fate had a plan', 'fate had an idea' no fate chucked you out and left you in the curb where you found your purpose you stopped bull-shitting your way through what couldn't be explained and you got up yourself.

Or maybe it's not death that scares us at all, maybe it's the fear of the unknown, the book that is yet to be written, the seeds yet to be sewn. Maybe its the fact our tiny minds can't comprehend that in the end, it doesn't come down to us. We don't get to decide which door we travel through when push comes to shove there is nothing we can do to stop the inevitable. We cant pick our poison. Karma's a bitch, right? No. Maybe what goes around comes back around but that's not karma. Karma's yet another word to describe the drama of this world, the pointless ends at the end of a gun both self-inflicted and craze inflicted isn't there a point where it's enough? So it's not death's fault. It's ours. Not all the time, of course, there's blame to share but death doesn't whisper in your ear to pull that trigger. But who am I to assume? I am not death I am a human just like you. I fear death. I fear uncertainty. I fear I won't be remembered that I will disappear that I won't get a second chance and my mistakes are what make me that will be all the Judge sees and if that is so. What can I do?

I made those decisions. I am who I am. I am you and I am her and I am the boy who stole my heart and didn't know what to do, I am the boy who tells me I love you and stares so deeply into my eyes that I'm scared to let go. because if I do; who am I? I am the girl whose temper matches her hair I am the friend who continuously dances out of my reach I am childhood memories on a sand spilled beach like an hourglass trickling through the grains of my life I am. Me. I am my mother before me with her wise words and logic I am my fathers laugh and my brothers faćade I am my sisters will. So if I am all of this. Then who am I? Who do they see? Which part of me do they steal into their personality which part of me do they admire, do they aspire to be? And is there even a part? Or am I just the girl with the broken heart. The girl who doesn't know how to feel, the girl who passively deals with the things life throws. The girl who needs to learn to let go.

A hurricane forms in my mind a hurricane of my thoughts I can't control but like my thoughts my writing swirls, and from the thought of death emerges a broken girl. But I am beautifully broken by the truths of this world and the knowledge that in the end death is a friend. Because there will always be a start line and a finish.

A child is born, a child dies, a mother screams, a father cries, we are all connected by these emotional ties that zip together our lives. Death takes and gives that's the way it is in this unforgiving mess of human tears and flesh we are one. And isn't that a beautiful thing? To know that wherever you go you have got someone who breathes the same oxygen on your left and someone to your right who made love all night and connected with another human being that in another life could have been you, but we are all the same yet different, colliding like a chemical reaction and creating life and creating love and soaring free up above and living.

We are living.

We are taking and giving.

And it's the inevitable cycle that can't be mistaken you see we are given and taken by the things we define as life

and death.

So count the beats of your heart.

The way that it slows as the sun dips the way it quickens as you feel their lips, the way it beats at a normal pace, the way it doesn't when you've finished the race.

Your heart beats out the music of your life.

Don't waste a single beat.