There is a pain being the one that survives.
When the character of your dreams, a fiction, in book or film form bows away
when the hero of your dark corner of the room takes their life.
When chosen family passes.
I often get hit with waves of what I can only describe as pain from the thought of outliving the people and things around me. "How dare I" is the tongue-in-cheek way I mask the actual wince of sincerity.
The thought, however, is completely genuine.
I'm supposed to acknowledge that it's a selfish thought; and that people would not only notice but be upset about some space I was once inhabiting; but I gotta say something from the hip- I really don't care all that much.
I'm supposed to talk about it being a cowardly thing, wanting to escape pain and obligation, but I keep coming back to the idea of peace.
There are a couple of things that set this off, (this time) and one is nothing short of silly.
I was getting tattooed yesterday, the start to a 'black out' sleeve and, it occurred to me as it sometimes does while getting tattooed, that I was being forced into a sort of peace. No... it's not a whips and chains thing... its more having to do with the idea that I was in a great deal of physical pain and I was UTTERLY in the moment, no time to wander off into the normal alleyways of my depression or... well, obsess over my obsessive compulsive thoughts. I don't allow that sort of thing, if that's the right way to put that... or rather I don't feel like I can NOT think about several thoughts at once.
In any given moment I'm thinking about outliving my father, failing at my career, disappointing myself or others, gaining weight, losing weight, if there will ever be a Rocketeer remake or WHY SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHY I'M NEVER GOING TO MEET ANTHONY BOURDAIN. (a sample plate)
The other memento more I was smacked with was watching Vampire Diaries yet again in my life, (to be fair it's any bit of fiction that takes a little hand hold on me) but this one- it's a teenage show of love and loss... and curses and reanimation and revenge and then more love and loss... and bourbon. That's all besides the point, the point is that regardless of the fiction, if the character leaves or is otherwise done, like, done done... eg: no more Damon Salvatore... I lose my shit.
"Here's another thing that I'm outliving" ...that I have no business doing so.
It's an actual pain. Tear-wrenching pain. Pain pain.
I don't want to ride this anymore, but I don't know how to get off without causing more and more pain.
