Why I’m Likely Dead Right Now (and Why You Probably Are, Too)

“You live like this.
Sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living.

Then you read a book… or you take a trip… and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating.

The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable:

  • First, restlessness.
  • The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure.

That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness.

Monotony, boredom, death.

Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children.

And then some shock treatment takes place – a person, a book, a song – and it awakens them and saves them from death.

Some never awaken.”

Anais Nin

Some never awaken.
Is anyone else figuratively shitting their pants with this?

What really freaks me out is that, by definition, I am dying. I’m in hibernation. Everyday.
Do you ever get a second to reflect on your day – sitting on your bed after work, kicking off your shoes, looking up at the ceiling at night – and wonder:

“What the f*** did I even do today?
Where did I go? Who did I speak to?
I know I got up and everything, but…
Did today even happen?”

Everyday. That was my answer. Today, even. Today was one of those days.
Then I get this itchy, sticky feeling of restlessness, like my bones are made of toffee but my motivation is made of dust and everything is just not good enough. Nothing hits the spot.
I’m talking weeks and weeks and weeks of this. For me, it’s called winter.
And/or school.

But what the hell are we doing if we’re wasting our days away like this?
I mean, for god sakes, I just turned 20 — Did I hibernate away the last years of my teendom?

For fear’s sake, I try to think of my last few shock treatments – The last few times I was alive, Jesus H. Christ – many of which are a tad too NC-17 to publicly discuss. There’s a pat on the back for my college days gone by, thank you.

Oh, good. At least Purgatory's fashionable.

But to think that time, any amount of time, slipped away in between those moments…

It’s like someone (or Facebook) re-telling you your drunken Thursday night as if you weren’t there.
It’s being physically alive, but unconscious. Useless.

It’s like purgatory.

Now, it’s constantly on the tip of my nose so that I can stare at it everyday: Where are you? What are you doing, and why don’t you feel awake doing it? Are you alive right now, or are you dead?

Talk about getting your priorities in order. Perhaps that’s my new rule of thumb:
I won’t do anything that wastes my life away in any kind of in-between.

I’ll do some jumping jacks. I’ll go the wrong way on purpose. I’ll do something, anything in that moment, that scares me. I refuse to half-ass my life.

And a hope for anyone else, a Hallmark gag-line that I understand more than ever now:

May you live every day of yours.

Good shit, J-Swift.

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