That Is The Question

To be...
...or not to be.

I never had any patience for Hamlet. He never asked the right questions.

Live or die. Do it or don't. Man up or back down. Jesus, make a choice. Either make a move or remove your influence from the gene pool. Better yet, ask what you really want to know.

Would it make a difference? Is there a right way to go about this?

Life and death, right and wrong. You can call it whatever you want, but it's still the same thing. When the time comes for you to fall, one way or the other, the impact will hurt the same way. The ground over there is just as hard as is it over here.

***

At the time, it was simple.

If you want to know the truth (most people don't), I knew it was wrong. All those little ribbons floating in the water were supposed to stay inside. They tied all the pieces and chunks together and I just let them unfurl out of me.

In that moment, I fancied myself a magician.

It just keeps coming. And you don't know how it got there. After all, I showed you before that there was nothing up my sleeve.

***

Just so we're clear, I didn't do it because I wanted to die. No, no, no.

I was curious. Really. And the answers to my questions were worth all the pain and the "wrongness" of what I had to do to get them. I thought that maybe I could just go to the brink. From the edge you can see everything.

But I took it to far. Accidents happen.

They keep telling me I had a "psychotic break" because of everything that happened with Julie, but I don't buy it. I didn't feel psychotic. And I certainly didn't feel broken.

***

Death doesn't scare me. By that I mean the physical pain does not make me afraid. I don't know if I've mentioned this, but I have a very high pain tolerance.

What happens after the pain is what I wonder about. I know, I know, Jesus died to save us and when we're gone we go on a vacation to a land of never ending singing and fluffy vanilla ice cream.

Save it.

A long time ago (it feels like a long time, though the calender will make you think it wasn't that long ago), Julie died. There's this road with a really steep curve, and well, she liked to speed. It was raining.

Anyway, she died in a car wreck. Julie couldn't carry a tune in a bucket and vanilla was her least favorite flavor. I'd hate to think the after life is being so cruel to her.

***

To be or not to be.

Hamlet, you whiny little bastard. Get out of my head.