Of all the ages we go through, and the candles we blow, in all the people we meet and the habits we outgrow, the deepest and most pointless discussions we have, the post-its we stick on people’s screens and on their mirrors, our expressions of love and confusion and irritation of people and circumstances; in all the differences in smells and complicated ways of connecting the dots in our heads, in my way of viewing things versus yours, andwithyours, and with every breath forced out of me, one thing unites all our dissociations, and that’s the way we end our stories. We all unite under life’s factual circumstances.
As Viola Davis said, straightforward, as she shrugged, holding onto a golden globe with her two hands, almost as if her entire body was supporting this statue, tear-ridden and obviously immersed in emotion, she chooses to break the silence of the wait, after the sea of applaud had quieted down for being nominated for best supporting actress, the noise slowly fades out. Gazing from one person to another, I imagined her looking at the immense amount of individuals as they all looked back at her, singled out from the crowd. She tried to look to everyone in front of her, and in a quivering voice she exclaimed, “There is one place that all the people with the greatest potential are gathered, and that’s the graveyard“.
As soon as she did, there was no noise in the audience, as they all knew and agreed without having to agree. There was no noise from me behind my laptop, taking a break from my gigantic management project which I have due in less than 10 days, which I should probably be getting back to now. But no matter the time of day or project deadlines, one thing remains unchanged, and that is our surprisingly easy temporariness.
Today is warm enough to open windows in Paris, and sunny enough not to light any bulbs. The window, letting my curtains and the wind play little games , also let through a a familiar tone. Someone was playing Wake me up on the loudest volume, the whole road could hear it, my walls heard it too, and it swept through the branches near my room, and fell to the ground with its leaves.
We are all so extraordinarily temporary, and life itself is exciting in all its new adventured and surprises and dull mundanity, right until its very end, whether that is in 20 years or 53.
We often oscillate between the labyrinth of suffering through distracting ourselves from the pain of failed plans and circumstances and failed expectations and failed love and self love, and feeling every emotion to be felt with absolute admiration and wonder.
I hope that when I leave this earth I will have kept my friends and loved ones close, and met people who left their fingerprints all over my thoughts and left my hands dirty with sweet sweet soil, and that I’d had more days of laughter than heartache, and felt more of love than pain. But it is a blessing both ways, to have simply felt.