Everything is always different when you can see yourself from yourself and I feel I must write this down before my time is gone. I have always had a joyous outlook on life, maybe a bit under-developed and cynical but nothing really worries me. Things come and go, like a sunset. The sun who is beckoned and captured by the horizon making this beautiful image of hostility and angst; Of course, then it escapes over and out of sight, finally to be free but we all know that tomorrow the sun will once again fall to that beguiling call of the horizon, trapped again, in that beautiful prison. I know for a fact, I use to look at that differently. Yet, for the life of me I cannot recall what it was that I thought of when I had seen a sunset. I can only recall the feeling of now reflecting on the thoughts of then. I do know, that the moment I realized something, that almost everything that I held true became an amnesic dream which comes to me only in the moments of the sublime and then only in small whiffs. I am not sure what caused the moment, I am not sure why it happened, hell I am not even sure it happened slowly or quickly, but I remember when and where I realized it had happened or at least start happening.
To understand what this means, you must understand who I was or more exact who use to live in this body. I know, it sounds a little loopy but think about it. We have a saying that goes “I am not the person I was last year,” I just take that to a new level. The physical body changes and there is no denying this. The mind changes clearly as well, even more so, and in these changes our personalities, quirks, and ideas change and what is a person but a collection of traits. As we grow, we lose these traits and gain new ones and thus a new person. This simply is the story of when I realized these things happened but I use to be, from what I can conjure, a nice, confident, smartass who found faults only in himself, myself, himself, whatever.
It was two years ago, I had just moved into a shoddy apartment. Well, to be frank about it, the apartment was more of a shed with electricity and indoor plumbing. I found it to be much more comfy than most other places I have lived in since, but then again there is no place like you home. Anyways, my then most recent ex-girlfriend had stopped by to explain to me that I was not who I thought I was and that blah, blah, you’re crazy, blah, blah, I am leaving, blah, blah. Short version of the story is she thought I was a horrible person which at the time I was not, I am now but then, no, I was quite the gentlemen. Now, I will attempt to explain it as it happened but I cannot recapture how exactly I or he felt for it was a combination of the dying me and the me now.
I found myself laying in my bed-living room, as I would call it, on my futon watching some cartoon pirate talking about how to be nice and make friends. I was caught up in thinking, “How would this cartoon educate any kid of how the real world exists, or even how one would make friends in it?” I am quite sure I did not think that but it is what comes to my mind when I recollect it.
“What do you think, I think it’s a good way to find a friend.” The pirate on the T.V. said with an imbecilic voice which made me grin for no reason. I sat up and took a moment to think about what Chunk-Chunk, Dunk-Dunk, Funk-Funk, or whatever the fuck his ridiculous name was, said. That if a child was to follow that character’s advice he would soon find his head in a shitty toilet before he would find a friend. I think the best way to make friends is to be frank about it, to be forward, which is why I don’t have many I suppose. Most people can’t fathom the reality I sell them and they call me crazy. Still, about those thoughts, I am rather sure I did think that because I laughed at my conclusion which lead to the situation that is most confusing because, I or he, became confused and worried. I or he would make dark jokes to my or himself all the time, or at least I think so; but this time something felt different, something felt real. As if some darkening gray inside me/he had crept over a line from a harmless joke to a fortified thought of reality. I will from this point forward refer to my/his body as just my own for expedience sake.
I found myself worried that something in me had changed, that something had taken hold or had broken off. I soon felt my chest tightening, my breathing became erratic, my vision was becoming blurred, and my ears began to ring. I started to panic, I didn’t know what was happening nor did I know what to do. I attempted to calm myself by thinking of what medical conditions would cause this and instantly my mind went straight to stroke. In that same moment, I remembered that people’s faces would slouch like melted ice cream when they have strokes. So, I ran to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Yet, there was no melted face syndrome going on just ugly face syndrome that I have always had.
My mind in the moment must have understood that nothing was wrong with me and I began to regain my senses. I stared into the mirror and chuckled but right after the chuckle faded I notice a failing fire in my eyes. A sparkle that was losing out to the darkness of my cornea. I blinked and rolled my eyes at the mirror around to see if the light would move but it did not. It remained, like a torch in the darkness flicking, begging for fuel.
I watched it, I watched as it flickered. I wanted to fuel that fire, whatever it was but I couldn’t think of any fuel that would help it grow, that would also not extinguish it. I stood captivated, looking into my own eye. I stared deeply and thought of how others like my mother, father, my ex’s, and pass-by-night lovers who stared into the same eyes. Did they see this flame, was it barely lit then? Was it burning out of control with passions? Or was it not there at all? Was this flame something new? Something that has sparked recently in my life? Regardless, I felt it was going to die soon and I would not know why. I then started to think, should I watch this flame die? Or should I just return to the cartoon? I, for some reason unbeknownst to me, decided to watch the flame die, watch as it burned away into the abyss.
Just then, I began to think about how we all are walking into the abyss and how we always end there and how fitting it is for me to watch this flame die out. I think that’s what I was thinking. When the flame began to choke itself out. My eyes gave no smoke, I don’t even know how one’s eyes could smoke but the fire choked out. I began to realize, it was no fire but a glimmer. The light barley shining on the edges of my iris, giving them almost a melted, milk chocolate color that gave way to a frozen dirt color. Fuck, those are not my thoughts. Those are his, I will explain in time but for now, I will finish his thought. The light fought valiantly, but as certain as the sun would escape the horizon, the darkness would win this fight, and the glimmer died and for what nothing. I think that last part was me. I watched as the glimmer died in my eyes, through my eyes. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever experienced, that is my thoughts.
When I think back to it, that singular moment I feel a slight warmth in me. I can’t quite place what the feeling means but I know what it is. That he didn’t die as I thought, that somewhere in me the glimmer is still there. He is trying to come back, trying to kill me and take the body back. I thought that motherfucker was dead, but no. I know he does not forgive me for watching him die but if he lives I die. I will not walk alone into the abyss, I will not go in alone. I feel, even though, that the dying version, or shall I call him the lying version of me, did not die that I at least give him the comfort of a watchful eye as he slipped into a deep sleep.
Well, the joke is on him for thinking I will let this go and let him take this body from me, he must be more irrational than our mind allows me to remember. Well, I am a rationalist and there is but one answer. I will not walk into the abyss but me and that lying son of a bitch will go together. I end this note with just this simple thought, fuck you and I hope bullets hurt us both but if not, at least I will not go alone into the abyss and to those who find this body, know that I won and I went smiling as he went silently with me from his prison.
P.S. Last thing I want to put in here is that my organs are to remain in my body, giving organs to people makes no sense. It will at most only complicate the entire process, what if I mostly die but some part of myself is in my liver. I would be transported to a new body where this whole process beings again. Jesus, what if dick bag starts his life in someone else then I truly die alone anyways. It is settled, I do not give my permission to give my organs to anybody.