4 days ago, someone I knew from high school put a gun to his head and closed his blue eyes.
I looked at his yearbook picture this evening - he had the most picturesque face - like a beautiful blonde boy smiling not for his family or his friends, but for his content. For trees and blue skies and acoustic guitars. For peanut butter sandwiches and baseball games. For comic books and action figures. For laughing and crying. For holding hands with the perfect girl and shooting stars on a perfect night. For the ocean. For smiles.
Nothing makes you value life like someone else taking their own.
In small moments like these I'm able to see that this world is filled with sadness. The young and naive, doing anything they can to find a place for themselves. The elderly doing everything they can to feel young again. The middle aged coping with loosing the thrill of youth, trying to feel attractive again. We are a people perpetually uncomfortable in our own skin. And we walk around with shells of complacency and contentment, hiding that sadness and alienation. And for some, I guess it's just too damn much.
God fucking damnit. I just don't know what to write - I don't know how to put into words. It's this feeling that fills my ears and my eyes and my mouth. But nothing comes back out. Just this useless struggle to make sense of this.
Everyone who reads this, I love you. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for. That you will find your way home and fall asleep comfortably in your bed. That you can wake up, brush your teeth, look in the mirror, and smile.
Please don't give in. There's just too damn much you'll miss. For better or for worse, we're on borrowed time - enjoy every moment you're here. Taste every breath and hear every sound like it's your first.
And smile. I hope Alex smiled. I hope when he took that gun and broke away from his tears... I hope the whole world stopped and he smiled.
I hope he smiled.
I looked at his yearbook picture this evening - he had the most picturesque face - like a beautiful blonde boy smiling not for his family or his friends, but for his content. For trees and blue skies and acoustic guitars. For peanut butter sandwiches and baseball games. For comic books and action figures. For laughing and crying. For holding hands with the perfect girl and shooting stars on a perfect night. For the ocean. For smiles.
Nothing makes you value life like someone else taking their own.
In small moments like these I'm able to see that this world is filled with sadness. The young and naive, doing anything they can to find a place for themselves. The elderly doing everything they can to feel young again. The middle aged coping with loosing the thrill of youth, trying to feel attractive again. We are a people perpetually uncomfortable in our own skin. And we walk around with shells of complacency and contentment, hiding that sadness and alienation. And for some, I guess it's just too damn much.
God fucking damnit. I just don't know what to write - I don't know how to put into words. It's this feeling that fills my ears and my eyes and my mouth. But nothing comes back out. Just this useless struggle to make sense of this.
Everyone who reads this, I love you. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for. That you will find your way home and fall asleep comfortably in your bed. That you can wake up, brush your teeth, look in the mirror, and smile.
Please don't give in. There's just too damn much you'll miss. For better or for worse, we're on borrowed time - enjoy every moment you're here. Taste every breath and hear every sound like it's your first.
And smile. I hope Alex smiled. I hope when he took that gun and broke away from his tears... I hope the whole world stopped and he smiled.
I hope he smiled.
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I've had a few friends go that route. After the shock wears offf, I end up being pissed at them more than anything.
Anyway, it was great meeting you guys last night and I hope we can all get together again sometime.