I remember long ago, when I was very small, when I realised what it meant to die.
I must have been about nine years old at the time, and it was one of those long nights where I had nothing to think about, because I stayed awake, thinking about stuff. I ended up thinking about my pet fish, and how they'd all died, and been unceremoniously dumped in the bin. When they had died, they had stopped working, although sometimes we knew that it was going to happen soon. And all of the fish had died a long time ago, but all these things disjointedly floated into my consciousness as I lay in bed - and suddenly I realised that this was going to happen to me too. I was going to stop working like those helpless little fish. Everyone I knew, everyone who was going to be, everyone was going to come to a halt, and nobody had any way of stopping it. I cried all night. And as I cried I thought of how nothing could come after death, and made myself think that there must be something afterwards, because a life was too special to end.
I think I was less practical back then, because I have since determined that it's all predetermined by the way particles blast around the universe - all particles, even ones that seem controlled by organisms - those organisms themselves are controlled by the particles that they are composed of. Which is of course a much less-romanticised viewpoint. It bores me. And it seems fanciful when written down, contrasting to how much sense it ought to make. But it's mind-boggling. Do people refuse to believe that they are all just insignificant parts of this planet? - a planet that doesn't mean anything, it's all just matter. All the matter in the universe is all that matters in the universe. As I write this, I feel foolish, and make myself believe I'm wrong. I always seem to be wrong these days. Maybe nobody has the answer. I don't have mine. Maybe I'll be laying in bed one day, and it can strike me then, too.
I feel so depressed at the moment. I still feel like a nobody amongst somebodies. My personality is beige, and the polka dots are the parts I have to keep to myself. I don't really take myself seriously any more, and sometimes I think that I never will... I'm loveless. I always think I'm better alone, as I'm far less nervous, but at the same time I'm getting agitated about how I'm alone. Humans are drawn to each other, even if it's nothing to do with sex, and I know many more people now. But all I can think of is how they dislike me. (I know that this is exactly what I said in my last post, but it's even worse now.)
And another thing that is gradually getting worse... I am realising how I won't really be able to cope with my A-Levels. I can't concentrate, even when my head is clear. Sometimes that comes as a feeling too - a realisation that I really must do something and work. It's not happened yet, and I'm wasting my time here rather than finishing my music homework.
Or maybe one huge thing will hit me, like a steamroller. I will suddenly realise where I'm going wrong, and realise why I don't feel confident about myself. I will suddenly realise that anything is possible, that physics is all an illusion, and I will soar into the skies, forget about everything, never ever have to work, and I will wake from a dream within a dream. This makes so much sense to me, it's unbelievable.