“I am going to die today.”
It was decided. Ah, what a glorious death that was! Left alone, in the middle of nowhere. Set to be burnt by the sun and frozen by the cold night of the driest desert in the world. There was no escape from that. A stupid, unnecessary, but obvious death.
But I didn’t die.
What happened in that desert will stay with me for the rest of my days. Not only the limp, the chronic pain and the scars . Also, the realization of how fragile life is. The understanding of Mortality.
I am not constantly thinking about Death. I know she’s there. We met once and have been silently aware of each other’s presence ever since. Not caring. Not worrying about it. Although, sometimes, simple things raise my awareness and bring her back to my mind.
Earlier today, our manager asked us to go in the office’s intranet. He wanted us to fill in the contact information of our next of kin. “Just in case,” he said.
“I will die,” I thought.
Yes. You will too. We all will. Know it. Embrace it.
There’s no constant in our ever changing personal histories, but Death. She’s behind every step, every breath, every blink of our eyes. And there go most people, ignoring this fact. Wasting all those steps, all those breaths, all those blinks. Until there’s no time left to waste. Until there’s nothing left to waste.
Passing days pile up rapidly. My hairline recedes, the gray slowly takes control of my dark beard, sleeping well is becoming a memory. Mortality, right there on my face.
I dragged myself out of that desert because I refused to believe that was the end of me. Still I refuse.
To waste my steps.
To waste my breaths.
To waste each and every single blink of my eyes.
The doctors called me “Miracle boy.” They said I would never walk normally again after my accident, and I proved them wrong. “I can even run,” I told them. And I keep running. And eating, and laughing, and shitting, and fucking. And loving. Specially loving. Because I was granted a second chance to live, and only through Death I understood the value of my time here and now.
So, here’s to you Death.
May your sweet embrace come far.
Far in the future.
May your touch not caress my skin.
Until my bed is ready.