It Tolls For Thee

I got another call from the Grim Reaper today. That fucking call. I was actually riding around in my car and a song came on. It spoke to me. I thought for a moment that I somehow created this life, this realm, in my head. It synced all too well with my life today. Thank you, City and Colour.

I'll probably end up deleting this because I decided to get shitfaced drunk tonight and have a fabulous time, which I did, but I couldn't help but think. You know, I can't judge anyone for their outlooks on the big picture of life because no one knows. I think anyone could be right. Maybe I need to follow the rules of the Catholics, Hindus, or Jews, but either way, eternity is much longer than this short-ass life. I must believe in something more because if there's nothing more, then all the good in the world is nonexistent. Think.

Anyway, I know some people who like to kill themselves. One more attempt today. You tell me. Your daughter and husband kill themselves and you've pushed through life...would you not consider leaving the same way? If all you really cared about was somehow seeing them again, would you not try to leave the world in the same way? Heaven or Hell? What's the difference if you still exist? Think.

I find suicide to be selfish, but I find it to also be a choice and dare I say, a right. I know a beautiful woman. I held her hand a few weeks ago at her grandson's funeral, and I held her hand again today in a coma. She squeezed both times. She cried at her daughter's funeral and her husband's. She lives alone. She gives.

The only thing that made her move today and open her eyes were the words, "It's me," and somehow I knew that she thinks I'm a piece of her daughter. I'm all she has left of her, and even though I don't feel like that piece, I play that role.

Like the passing of a scheduled bus, I predicted it. Not her, though. Not the rock. She'll be pissed when she wakes up. And I can't blame her.



Waiting by City and Colour

A coma might feel better than this,
attempting to discover where to begin.
You're weighed down, you're full of something.
Of sickness, and desertion.
You're weighed down, you're full of something,
you're underneath it all.

So say goodbye to love,
and hold your head up high.
There's no need to rush
we're all just waiting, waiting to die.

Hope in a better place is all I need,
with moments of innocence and mystery.
Oh, it's the little things you miss.
Like waking up all alone.
Oh, it's the little things you miss,
when you're underneath it all.

So say goodbye to love,
and hold your head up high.
There's no need to rush
we're all just waiting, waiting to die.

All your friends seem like enemies
when you're broken down and empty.
All your friends seem like enemies
when you're broken down and empty.

So say goodbye to love,
and hold your head up high.
There's no need to rush
we're all just waiting, waiting to die.