must wake up in four hours but still wide awake. heaviness in the heart. compulsive updating, rewriting, double-checking, tasking trying to alleviate this anxiousness. a little shell-shocked. depressed but manageable. wishing i were more productive. trying not to let my cynicism overpower my optimism.
something i don’t want to talk about to anyone in my immediate circle face-to-face at the moment…
cecil died. less than two weeks before i saw him for the last time, saw him smiling at me from the hospital bed, saw him curling up with the character plush doll from the tokyo outlet… saw him weak but alive. breathing. moving. existing.
it suddenly struck me how fragile the human body was and how soft and penetrable the skin and innards were. how easily they could transition from working in perfect tandem one moment and then to collapsing in the other.
i spent this week thinking a lot about death, partially because of this and partially because of the sinking disaster in south korea.
when i woke up this morning, i lied in my bed staring at the fat yellow bird doll that eric got me, thinking about how yellow that yellow was and how blue the walls were, and how strange it was that it all even existed in the first place. cecil was alive a few weeks ago and with him a world of his own existed, too, with its own colors, sensations, feelings and thoughts, and it must have been rich and complicated. how could all of that humanness, pulsating and bright, simply disappear?