Death of a Student

I always used to think people prioritized their lives right before they died, that the imminent silence of death forced people to re-evaluate their relationships, choices…everything. Well, that’s happening now for me. One month. I have one month left before my life ends, and I still have no answers to these questions. One month…what happened?

I don’t know what it is, but I feel this “sinking” sensation in my chest whenever I contemplate events like this. Maybe it’s the fact that my life is changing before my very eyes and I have no power to stop it. Maybe it’s because all of the relationships and connections I’ve made over the years will be severed. Maybe I’m reflecting too much on the past and how change was always a very bad thing for me. I don’t know and I feel like I will never know. Life is funny: you’re given all these opportunities for greatness, people to fulfill yourself, and the chance to be happy…and yet, you still feel as if something is missing. Maybe that’s just part of the human condition, that we always desire more and more until we die. It’s as if life is a game; I don’t see the purpose of that though. If the point of living is to acquire the most stuff…you’re dead anyways, so you’ve lost.

I’m getting off-track. The point I’m trying to make here is that I’m nervous. My life is changing and I simply have to watch it change and work with the aftermath. No, I’m not dying…at least not in the conventional sense. Next year, I will be meeting new people and living on my own. All of my friends will be dispersed across the country. Hell, even my girlfriend will be attending a school six hours away from me. I will have to work hard to obtain what I desire most in life. My innocent, care-free lifestyle is over. I have to grow up and live my life in a new way…and that terrifies me. I mean, my life isn’t terrible; it is fantastic. My family loves me dearly, my girlfriend even more so, my friends are always there for me…and that’s just as far as relationships go. I go to a good school, one that gave me the education I need, and will be going to an even better university next semester. I have money, food, more-than-comfortable living arrangements…everything I could possibly want and need. And yet, something is lacking.

All that’s left is to go forward, to step off the edge of the cliff and dive into the void below. Like countless before me, I’m on the verge of a new beginning; why should I not take this opportunity? Sure I’m scared, the thought of it keeps me from being more outgoing or happy, and I may not want to…but, fuck, I mean, I have to, so I might as well accept this notion with grace. Like Hemingway describing how man must be ready to accept death, I must be ready to accept this death. I must be ready to give up all that I know, all that I am comfortable with, and cross over. And when I reach the precipice of the other side, when I experience all that this world has to offer, I can say, “I can do this.”

We’re all dying, slowly but surely, in our own special way. Some of us get old, some of us make bad choices, some of us lose the fun we used to have. Whether it’s due to drugs, debauchery, or decisions…we’re all dying. I’m part of that. I’m getting older, though I’m young. I’ve grown up so much in this past year alone, let alone throughout my four years of high-school, and I’m losing that young-blooded sense of self that wasn’t afraid to scream, “Fuck you!” to the world. Now I’m sitting down and thinking about my life, my future, and my aspirations. What I’m hoping for most is not the glamour that comes with adulthood, nor the large amount of friends or lovers that I may come to know, and not even my preconceived notions of fame that I am hopeful to obtain from my work…but to be able to stand up when the time comes for me to give it all up, and say, “I am ready.”