The Kiss of Death
Nov. 8th, 2007 06:25 pmAnyone who has known me for more then five minutes knows that death is my greatest fear. Ever since I was six and first grasped the idea of mortality, from time to time I've been beset by these sudden and paradoxical bursts of fear; paradoxical in that it is very sensate fear that mainly occurs at times when my consciousness is most divorced from my body. I suddenly feel fenced in, trapped, sentenced to a future of incomprehensible nothingness. Panic sets in so quickly it borders on hysteria. The only thing that can pull me out of these moments is deliberate physical movement, or human contact. Human contact is the best when it is availible, because all I need to do to comfort myself is thread my arm through Greg's, or snuggle up next to my mom, or hug one of my friends. It brings me back from that abstract future into the present moment, unique unto itself, never to be duplicated again for the rest of eternity. I return to a place that is special, into a body that is special, surrounded by people who are special. When I'm alone, simply moving my body can snap me back into reality. If I'm laying in bed I'll bolt up and run to the other side of the room. Or like last night when I was in the shower, the fear came and I touched the walls of the stall, I jogged in place for a second, I repeated the name of someone I love several times, and it calmed me. Another thing that helps me sometimes is reminding myself that the people I love are going to die too. Tina, Gayle, and Heather are all going to die. My mother, my father, Michael. And it soothes me because it means they are all coming with me and I don't have to do it alone.
Sometimes the fear will assail me in public, like when I'm riding home from work on the bus. In situations when I can't touch anyone or move very much, I just look at the people around me, remind myself that they are going to die too. And as I think about that I begin to notice how distinct they all are from each other. One has a dramatic hairdo, another is balding, another wears bright barrettes in her hair. One woman has wrinkles while the little girl next to her has none. And I look at all these people, these special, unique people who will never be duplicated again for the rest of time, and I want to kiss them. I want to kiss each and every one of them because they are here now and I am here now and I want to show them that I recognize this. I want to kiss them because we are only here for so long and, by extension, we are each allowed only so many kisses, and I want one of theirs to come from me and one of mine to come from them just because they can. I think of all the people I've kissed in my life and how much I have taken those kisses for granted. Every kiss my mother has given me. Every passionate one I recieved under cover of darkness. I didn't relish any of them, not the way I should have. I think of all the important people in my life who I have never kissed even platonically and I want to grab them and plant a nice long one right on their lips just to show them how grateful I am that we exist here together in the same place at the same time. I want to kiss everyone I see on the street and everyone who is reading this entry. I want to give you one last, or in some cases a first, kiss. One to savor, one to bring you completely into your body, one to keep you warm on nights when you are cold, one unique kiss for us to share in this moment and forever after.
Sometimes the fear will assail me in public, like when I'm riding home from work on the bus. In situations when I can't touch anyone or move very much, I just look at the people around me, remind myself that they are going to die too. And as I think about that I begin to notice how distinct they all are from each other. One has a dramatic hairdo, another is balding, another wears bright barrettes in her hair. One woman has wrinkles while the little girl next to her has none. And I look at all these people, these special, unique people who will never be duplicated again for the rest of time, and I want to kiss them. I want to kiss each and every one of them because they are here now and I am here now and I want to show them that I recognize this. I want to kiss them because we are only here for so long and, by extension, we are each allowed only so many kisses, and I want one of theirs to come from me and one of mine to come from them just because they can. I think of all the people I've kissed in my life and how much I have taken those kisses for granted. Every kiss my mother has given me. Every passionate one I recieved under cover of darkness. I didn't relish any of them, not the way I should have. I think of all the important people in my life who I have never kissed even platonically and I want to grab them and plant a nice long one right on their lips just to show them how grateful I am that we exist here together in the same place at the same time. I want to kiss everyone I see on the street and everyone who is reading this entry. I want to give you one last, or in some cases a first, kiss. One to savor, one to bring you completely into your body, one to keep you warm on nights when you are cold, one unique kiss for us to share in this moment and forever after.