I Gave Myself September (2)

Read part 1 here

Not a lot of people cheat death once, let alone 3 or 6 or or n times. There are surely more close-calls than I even realise. I’ve heard that a lot of people believe life to be too short. These people wish for more days. They grab second chances with both hands, with a death grip, with their frantic teeth. Maybe they have forgotten all the previous days of their lives that they squandered; maybe they are acutely aware of them. All I know is that I do not want all of these chances. They are of no use or value to me.

I long to give them away to someone/anyone who wants them, people who are hungry for them, people who deserve More Life, more time, people who are desperate to live, who will use More Life fully, beautifully, purposefully, people who will live and live and live, and revel in their living.

I want to wrap up my days and give them to such people: I want to watch them as they untie the ribbon with trembling hands—tear open the pretty paper with the sense of urgency that can only be exerted by people on the cusp of death, by those who are desperate to breathe—see the smile shining from their joyous, unbelieving, gorgeous little faces—to see the tears in their bright eyes as they ask me, “Are you sure? Is this for real? More life? Another day? Another day to live? Another day of life… for me? Really?” while I nod and smile back at them, not a smile of happiness, for I am incapable of those, but a smile of quiet satisfaction of not being utterly useless for once, a smile of relief, a smile of finality. “Go on, take it,” I’d say to the recipient, “take it and run with it. Enjoy it. Spend it wisely. Go! Go and live!” And I’d keep giving my days away until I had none left.

But I cannot keep up with the persistence of sunrise. I give life to somebody, then another period of life arrives for me to bear. I have too much time to give away and not enough time in which to give it to those who need it, want it, deserve it. Time keeps overtaking me; life keeps appearing, glaring at me; death keeps playing tricks on me; peace keeps evading me.

1 Comment

  1. I was down Brick Lane a couple of years ago, smoking my vape thing, and this guy got a lungful of my exhale – he complained that he wanted to live a long time, and that I was an idiot, and how everyone wants to live longer, just one day longer, no one wants to die he insisted. It was a strange conversation, a bit one way, cos I couldn’t really think of anything to say – I suppose I should of apologised, but he went on about how his father would have beaten him if he’d done what I was doing – on and on he went. I got to thinking perhaps he’s right? And I should be more appreciative?

    I think I catch your meaning here though, the other guy was just a bit of a nut! Xx

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