Saturday, December 13, 2014

If I Tell You That I Am Nothing, Just Go With It

That's right. Don't argue with me. Don't tell me about how much I mean to you, or Jesus, or somebody else, or the universe (although I genuinely appreciate it, and I love you too, and I'll be much more likely to accept that gift when I'm in a different state of mind. For now, thank you.) Go with it. Give me a "right on" or a high five or a nod or gently tap your glass to mine. Cheers to the abyss, friends; let's dive right in.

Right now, I am absolutely nothing. Right now, my life is meaningless and sedentary. Right now, I take drugs to make me sleep more, but it's less of an escape than I want. It's a restless series of naps interrupted by sadness or my feet getting too clammy or my arms getting too warm or I really have to pee or the bright flashes of light that happen when I close my eyes and just will not go away. The alternative to this, when I'm feeling better less dizzy, is to stare at screens all day and pretend to be real. (I'm almost sorry for that; I know that I tend to make my ridiculous life irritatingly public and I understand that I've essentially flaunted my socially unacceptable behavior like some model strutting down a runway. But I'm desperate to find other humans like me, so bear with me and my candid conglomerates for a bit longer, please?) I can make a delicious quiche, though, and I guess that's real enough.

What if this life is actually an in-between; a prison? What if it is purgatory for those of us who are only spirits, for whom a body is unnatural? We've been losing bodies left and right, folks, and it's hard on us because we can't always see the spirits left behind, or hold them. But we have been losing bodies, bodies only. People who I love as well as the loves of my loves have been shutting their bodies down, permanently. Out of a different vein, I hope, I'd readily donate mine. Body snatchers, come snatch it up. I am a wild spirit when I'm healthy, and I don't want to be trapped anymore; see, I've got places to go. If our spirits are eternal, then they've already transcended dimensions because our universe had a beginning, and it is finite. If we are infinite, then we are timeless and we are able and we aren't constrained to the only dimensions that are observable by our physical bodies. This body is an awful constraint, my skin a tapestry that I've had painted with needles to remind me what might still exist inside, outside.

The redeeming quality to this purgatorial life comes from the glittering beauty of the creation that surrounds us, and then the things that are invisible. Things like memories and dreams, our capacity to design and wonder, and the moments when I can tangibly feel ethereal fingers running down my spine, offering comfort, radiating, whispering "I'm still here" and things like that. Still here, even after my mortal nothingness gets caught making loud demands towards heaven. Shouting demands, like I'm even anything, crossing my arms over my hardened exterior and secretly hoping for a new mercy in the morning.

Still, I wish my sleep were deeper. My medicine wasn't designed to do that. No escape.

But perhaps this season was designed to make me as small as possible, as nothing as possible. I have little utilitarian value, absolutely no financial value, and I can barely exist where I am at any given moment. I have been bled bone-dry while riding this cycle of worthlessness, knowing what I need to do and finding its possibility just barely out of reach, then deeming myself unworthy of getting better, fine. And the thing is, I don't really want your suggestions. That is, I'm not prepared to receive them. There are certainly many very small, very doable things that could make things seem a little bit better for the time. But that's just it; it only makes things seem better, and seem is not worth my suddenly available time. I won't leave my bed for anything so shallow. 

My mom told me that even though there's not much I can do right now, she still wishes for me to have a nice time at home. And I can't give her anything back; there's nothing I can say to that. It breaks my ravaged heart.

What kills me, or rather what makes me want to end this whole charade entirely, is the fact that I was not designed to fritter away my 24th year. I should be free and laughing and thriving and dancing and learning, my God, I should be learning the things that I really, really wanted to learn. I went away to learn, and instead I turned into nothing.


Well. No use crying over nothing, I suppose. It's just...nothing.

Monday, December 08, 2014

I Wanted to Dissolve, or, To Clemson with Love

I haven't written anything in here for a few weeks, and I probably should have, but it has been difficult to find words to describe this season that are appropriate for your eyes and consideration. That is to say, I don't need a whole lot of emotional reactions. I have had enough of those to compensate for any of yours, as far as I'm concerned.

At the moment, I'm in Michigan. East Lansing, specifically, at the MSU library. And it's interesting to me the ways by which I've both dreaded and longed for the impossible reversal of time. I mean, I shouldn't say impossible; it isn't. When Einstein recognized that a gravitational field was the same thing as a free fall under any constant force, and that one could manipulate the fabric of space and time simply by using that gravitational field or by traveling fast enough, he was also stretching the fabric of human thought. And those resulting thought experiments brought us to the singularity inside of every black hole; that impossible, invisible pinpoint; that treasure shielded by everything that we're not allowed to see in only three dimensions.

So, we have to manipulate time for the theory to work. It's incumbent upon us to think outside of linearity and causality and imagine, for a moment, that our intangible imaginations are the extra dimensions that we need in order to make sense of anything. 

Gravity, time, these things are everything.

I've been fluctuating heavily. On the surface, it's largely because I'm preposterously undiagnosed and under-medicated. But beneath that, my mind was designed to recognize parallels and the universe is full of them; indeed, it may be one itself.

On one end of my oscillation, I am floating. Floating as if there is no gravity at all, which means that time is unaffected. I am neither bending nor stretching anything; I am existing, and that is about it. I am happy in my blissful cloud, and content to simply sit wherever I am and bask in the energy of whomever I am with. Relaxation washes over me like a rising tide-maybe I'm dying, maybe I'm going numb-but those things don't seem to matter at all and I am a shell. I am lightness, and I am light; a packet of photons with an uncollapsed wave function. I haven't observed myself in any specific reality, nor has anybody else, so I am free to exist in all of them until I decide. I am here, and I am gone, and I am over there; I am floating.

On the other end, however, I am sinking. I am a living embodiment of Newton's 3rd Law, I am my own equal and opposite reaction; however, the Law of Averages has not worked in my favor. There is no happy medium. There is no ground. And actually, eventually, there is no Newtonian gravity where I'm headed. I am falling and I am crushed under the heaviness of what my observed realities are. I buckle and I convulse and I collapse under the wave of black and bright bursts that have clouded my vision for months, and I panic. I panic because where there had been no gravity before, there is infinite gravity here. And we call an infinite gravitational well a black hole. According to the theory, lots of dicy things happen on and inside of the event horizon. I see nuances of my existence annihilating as matter and their own antimatter, I am stretched beyond my physical limitations, and I see my entire history of time in brutal flashbacks that violently sideswipe my memory in this place that I cannot thermodynamically describe. Time is reversing in the worst way. If I were ever significant enough to have my own piece of spacetime, I feel it bending and twisting on top of itself until I'm caught in an infinite loop for which I've tried, time and again, space and again, to construct some kind of tangential escape. But gravity is too strong, here. My tangents always lose momentum and return to the things with which I have not properly dealt. And this time reversal is in no way merciful; it doesn't grant me the opportunity to return to a happier time, a factory reset to my last known functionality. No, not here. Gravity was designed gracefully, but it is not gracious. It is an unforgiving, mysterious force. I am frantic, I am confused, and I am heavy; I am sinking.

Luckily for me and for the rest of the universe, things that were meant to oscillate can still oscillate with or without the influence of a gravitational field. And time will run on my watch in a linear and constant fashion, as long as I can keep myself to three dimensions. But this is all very difficult to describe and it has seemed impossible to live this way on a day to day basis, so you may understand why I simply wanted to dissolve out of Clemson.

I wanted to go quietly. I didn't say a proper goodbye to everybody. The closest thing to a Goodbye Party I had was Friendsgiving, which wasn't really meant to be a Goodbye Party. I didn't ask anybody to help me move my things. I wanted to do this as single-handedly as possible.

As per usual, that plan pretty much disintegrated.

At Friendsgiving and during some everyday interactions following that night, my friends surprised me with so many presents and cards and happy memories and kind words of support for which I really didn't have the emotional capacity to handle. See, I didn't want to impact these people in the ways that they've impacted me. I didn't want to matter. During this season I feel like nothing, and I wanted to be nothing, and I wanted to disappear and not be noticed.

Well, too bad for me, I guess. Because as much as I am my own Newtonian Pair, they are mine as well. Every action is rebutted with an equal and opposite reaction. The unphysical magic of the human experience provides all the mores and lesses that we crave when we strive to quantify, but ultimately, I can't set foot in the spacetime local to Clemson without providing a ripple in that fabric. Nobody can, nobody ever has. And the truth remains that while I felt my personhood and my intellectual abilities shrinking during my time there, my heart grew in leaps and bounds. I fell in love with all of you. All of you. And I remain to be in love with you now, and I will continue to be in love with you for the rest of my life. I am in love with you, Clemson, because love rolls with the punches and leans in for kisses, and we've done all of those things.

Whatever direction time takes us, and regardless of the magnitude of the gravity surrounding us, I am in love with you.

That is a fact.