May 6, 2014 by babylondogs
Underlying all existence is a sense of uneasiness, an all-pervasive ugh, anxiety piled on top of doubt. Will my children find true and lasting love? Will they die unexpectedly before they graduate college? How do I tell my son my disease is back and this time it isn’t going away until I do? Did the neighbor just threaten to shoot his wife? Will the bank admit its mistake and stop foreclosure proceedings before I prove them wrong in court? Will my ailing father last the year? Have I wasted my life teaching students worthless lessons? (This is all hypothetical, of course). These are not gut-wrenching sufferings, knocking me to my knees, keeping me down under their unearthly weight. But they buzz in the background, electric hisses of white noise. And this is enough. The constant static of doubt, fear, occasional winces of panic, but mostly just the inescapable gravity of being. The toll is being paid. I, we, everyone … will one day careen off the highway into oblivion. Don’t worry about the blood you spit up yesterday, or the sharp pain in your chest, or the darkening under your eyes. That’s just life flickering. You’re a bulb about to go out, and soon no one will remember your light or the shadows you once cast. (And no one will recall all these mixed metaphors). So call your sweetheart and tell her you love her. It doesn’t really matter, but it might matter to her. Sweet dreams. Sleep well. There’s no reason to panic. You don’t really exist.
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