lump waz here

leaving my mark

I am here.

When I wake up tomorrow, around noon, I will have fallen asleep at around 8AM. It is 6AM. I am relatively peaceful now, but the moment my eyes open again is the moment I remember the past. I am blinded by it. I open my eyes and see nothing but sand.

I wake up with nothing. I wake up in the hell realm. I wake up not wanting to be here. Vibhava-taṇhā.

And from there I try to build everything from scratch.

A will to live.

A desire to exist. Bhava-taṇhā.

Maybe I have a cup of coffee. Everything is so lively. I put on music. I am alive. I am productive, creative, hopeful.

“This, too, shall pass” goes both ways.

No matter how joyous, no matter how griefstruck or terrified, there’s always the other side.

Not this side, nor that side, but a third, more equanimous side.

Closing my eyes and anticipating the flashes. Images behind my eyelids and silent requests to the beyond.

In bed I roll from side to side not knowing when I’ll die.

Sometimes it seems the safest way to live is to not live at all.

But when I wake up, far too late in the day, and have coffee, it’ll be like I forgot I had forgotten a reason to be here. To live.

I am here and there and back again.

I don’t plan to be around forever. I’ll leave my mark and leave.

I am here.

I was here, but I am here too.