"What would happen if you died?"
I was asked this the other day. It was part of my English teacher's plan to make the class more "involved". I was the lucky one who got asked that random question of the day. Usually, I don't mind answering teachers' questions. Hey, I've even come to appreciate it. But I was stumped.
So a series of events happens and I happen to die. How sad. A few mourn for a bit, perhaps attend a funeral for my body (even though I would have opposed it, if I could talk). A few things are said. I get buried or burned or whatever other useless thing people do to those who die. And then people move on.
That's it. There is no world changing event. It's easy on everyone, pretty laid back actually. No one is troubling them selves to much, because I haven't really done anything in my life. I've lived, not to my definition, but lived I have. But have I ever done anything useful? Something life altering? Something touching? Was I just another piece of flesh in a world that doesn't care about the other?
Yes. Yes I was. And that's fine with me.
I've feel like I've already passed on. Maybe a part of me already has. My self-respect, for one, is gone. That is one thing I don't believe you can rebuild. Ever.
My psychological status isn't exactly top notch, I get that. First it was Bi-Polar Disorder. Then one day, the genus's down at the "lab" decided I was just very, very depressed. Hello Major Depressive Disorder. The next ingredient is General Anxiety Disorder and Panic Disorder, just to name a few. I never understood these labels for me. I know what they are and how they make me feel, but that's it. Why do they define me? More over, why are they the only things that define me?
Everything is so numb now. I don't have fun anymore, but I also don't get mad, which I guess can be nice. A gift from nature, I guess. It's odd. I walk around aimlessly at times and don't understand why I feel so grey. I've tried, though. I go out with friends and try to be happy like they are. If that doesn't work, hey, let's have a drink or five. Still not working? Let's light one up and disappear into this world . . .
It's becoming a very annoying and useless cycle. I get up (hopefully), I make some attempt to put on makeup and look decent, eat (by choice or not does not matter), go to school, barely get by, talk, go home, avoid homework, sleep. It changes sometimes. Maybe I'll have to work a day or two. Maybe I'll go out and have a horrible time. Maybe I'll just end up thinking about Chris the whole day, and wondering why I wasted a day on him.
But it's repetitive. It's boring. It's unamusing.
And I'm tired.
So what would really happen if I died?
You all move on.
Author's Note: I wrote this around the start of this school year, 8 months ago. I found it today and noticed that nothing has changed, except for one thing. Originally it has said "Maybe I'll go out and have a horrible time. Maybe I'll just end up talking to Chris the whole day." He is no longer in my life, which makes everything so much more grey. Keep reading, Whyville. It might be the only thing I have left.
