Seriously, if I died, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal.
No, no, no, this isn’t a, ‘No one cares, wah! wah! Me so sad! I’m going to slit my wrists and cry a lot’ blog, I’m just stating the obvious.
It wasn’t until my sophomore year in college that someone really close to me died. When I found out, I didn’t even cry. I just sat there. Sat there, in shock, thinking, ‘I should be crying.’ I’m not really sure if I ever did cry. Shock and anger, that’s all I remember. I went to the viewing, and the funeral. Although I didn’t go to the grave site until a few weeks later, I was just too mad to go, and didn’t want to be mad and try to say goodbye at the same time.
Maybe I just didn’t know how to handle my emotions.
Anyway…
A few months ago a really good friend of mine died. No one really knew how close we were. We both had completely different lives, completely different circles of friends and family, and although we hardly ever saw each other… we talked whenever possible. It was one of those, ‘lay it on me, what shit has hit the fan this time?’ type of friendships. And you know how I found out he died? Someone, that I didn’t even know, messaged me on Myspace asking me how he died. I wrote back, at first thinking she had the wrong person, writing, ‘I’m sorry, but who?’
It didn’t seem right, though. That’s not a usual spam message, and you can’t very well mix up friends on Myspace. As I read my message to her over and over, I though, ‘Why me? Who would have me as a top friend that would make her message me?’ And it dawned on me… no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
That was all I could think. No.
Sure enough, I went to this friend’s page, and there were comments about how much he would be missed, RIP this, ‘never be the same again’ that.
I had just found out that one of my best friends had died… via freakin’ Myspace. I cried. I cried because I lost a friend. I cried because I had no idea. I cried that I wasn’t closer to his friends/family. I cried that I never really said goodbye. I cried because I had flown into town two days before he died. I cried because I passed up the chance to visit him on that day in between. I cried because I couldn’t help it.
My roommate’s girlfriend found me crying. It was then I realized that no one would understand. No one knew this friend, or if they did, he was just an acquaintance. I had no one to relate this to, no one to share anything with. ‘It’s’ all just still simmering inside… and I have no idea what’s to come of ‘it’.
A few days ago another friend died. I wasn’t that close to him, but I was friends with those who were; They were using social networking sites to try and express their grief. And just a few minutes ago, I noticed another circle of friends who lost someone they so obviously loved.
Death.
I’ve though about this before, and I still stand by my ideals:
Say I died sometime after my grandparents and mother passed… who would really care? Maybe my best friend, but she’ll have her own life by then. Wrapped up in family, work, and maybe even more school, (she’ll laugh if she reads that), she’d be sad, but not consumed by it. People on Facebook and [insert popular futuristic social networking site here] would change their status’. People would make calls and say, “Hey, you know so-and-so? She died!’ And everyone would remember how they sat behind me in class, or were taught by me in band camp, or worked with me at the theatre. Everyone would remember whatever experience they had with me to throw their name in the mix. But who would really give a shit?
A day or two would pass, and I would be forgotten. Messages on my Facebook wall would stop coming in. People would think less about me day after day. I’m simply at a point in my life where I’m not contributing much to anything… I don’t matter, and I’m okay with that!
Some people, or person(s), think this makes me selfish. I don’t see how, and I’m not asking for reasoning anymore, I’m just telling it like it is… like I see it. I’m not trying to spread a theory here, and you can’t tell someone that what they believe is wrong, (…well, you can, but that would just make you an asshole). I’m also not saying that I want to die. It’s just that it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if I did. I’m not seeking out stunts to threaten myself, I’m not suicidal or crazy… in fact, I think I’m pretty logical. What’s the difference between what I’m saying and saying, ‘I’m not afraid of death.’?
Don’t answer that.
I’m sure there’s a big difference, I just don’t care. Like being woken up by nightmares and trying to catch my breath… I just don’t care anymore!
