When I’m Gone

“It seems to me that if you or I must choose between two courses of thought or action, we should remember our dying and try so to live that our death brings no pleasure to the world.”John Steinbeck, East of Eden

I’m halfway through my 27th year on this Earth. You know, artists are notorious for dying at this age. The infamous 27 Club.

I feel fine. I workout every day. I drink plenty of water. I try to get my eight hours of sleep. I try to eat healthy. I take some supplements, multivitamins and stuff. But I am feeling a bit older than I did when I first started this blog. I feel tired after less hours of writing than I used to.

It’s not being dead, but getting closer to death that scares us, right?

I am also a bit heartbroken, as artists are supposed to be from time to time.

It’s been years since I found my ideal reader. That’s my definition of a soulmate, and the closest thing to falling in love with another human being. Someone who understands my words, who wants to read them, who underlines them in the books I give her. Someone who encourages me to reply less to e-mails, and to write more fiction. Someone who reminds me I was, am, and always will be a writer.

I have lost that person. Maybe irredeemably. I don’t know. It feels like that. Like the kind of goodbyes that never feel like goodbyes until you are sitting all by yourself at your desk and you try to write and no words come out. And you want to tell them that, and you can’t.

It’s not distance that breaks people’s hearts. No. She lives rather close. Distance is not the issue. Misunderstanding is. When you try to tell someone how they make you feel, and all they hear are words.

Something like that.

This means that I haven’t been feeling like myself lately. Right now, I feel like there’s a part of me missing. A few days ago, it was even worse. It felt like dying and being forced to keep on living.

And, yes, I recover fast from heartbreaks. I have had quite a few experiences. Soulmates never die, but they leave, find some other soulmate, or just turn out to be someone different than who I thought them to be.

All this made me think of death. In the sense of running out of time.

Do you ever feel like that? Like running out of time? Do you ever fear when that moment will come? The bitter end? Its unpredictability?

I guess I am just tired, and I want to write my feelings down. Quite selfish of me. But I am… tired. Trying to live a life you’re proud of is the most exhausting thing one can do. Trying to be good, to be competent, to love, to…

In moments of heartbreak we wonder if we’ll ever get the ending we want. If we’ll ever be happy. Loved. Fulfilled. If we’ll ever find someone who genuinely appreciates our presence, who loathes our absence, who supports our dreams, who is willing to fight for us day in and day out.

Someone to miss us when we’re gone.

Whenever you lose someone you feel you could spend a lifetime with, it feels like… it feels like death, actually. It feels like the life you live is this strange terror. Part comedy, part tragedy. One eye laughs, the other cries.

I reckon that this line of thinking is not in tune with the realities of the world, but artists like to dream a lot. We’re idealists.

In an ideal world I’d have my ideal reader, and we’d have fun editing stories, and I’d tell her all my ideas, and I could decide on which one to work by the way her face would light up. Something like that.

Like I said, I am not feeling like myself.

For this, I apologize.

Advertisements

10 thoughts on “When I’m Gone

  1. It seems to me that this post came straight from the heart and it made me want to cry and to comfort you at the same time – you stirred emotions in me with just your words. You are a writer. It takes courage and strength to put such vulnerability into your writing. For now, you feel sad so just cry and when that feeling has passed you will move on x

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Hey Cristian. I am so sorry You’re experiencing heartbreak. When I do through that it hits me very physically….I feel like a cannon has blown through my heart. Literally. I could paint it, it’s so clear. I’ve felt everything You are feeling. And as You say, it passes. We get through it. But in it…yes…everything You said. Everyone I have known intimately feels the same from time to time. Complete despair. I had something break my heart a week ago…not what You are speaking of….but it’s profound. I’m turning 54 in a month….and going through this incident, which I’m still passing through….it occurred to me that years ago this would have sent me into a tailspin of devastation (not that that’s what You’re experiencing). But time, which passes SOOOOO much faster than the cliche even, truly does make things easier. It makes going through things easier. The pain of life can be just as intense….but after seeing the tides of life rise and fall and rise and fall and rise and fall there really does come a peace in knowing that things will cycle again. It’s the law of physics. The pendulum ALWAYS swings back the other way. That visceral knowing makes it easier to sit with the pain. But it sucks. REALLY sucks. No way around it. It wasn’t selfish at all of You to share. There is great beauty in rawness and honesty. It helps us all to know we are not alone. Just as writing this fed You on some level, I assure You that You’re feeding other hearts. There will be many, “AH!”s….and “God. I know that.” It’s brave to be feeling it. You’re not just shoving it away and moving on robotically. You’re letting it wash through. There’s really nothing else You can do. You are strong and beautiful and I KNOW, someday, somehow You will meet another. Hang in there. ☀️💖☀️ Keep writing.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.