Everyone knows that song by Adele, the one that was played over and over again on the radios and drove you insane. ‘Someone like you’. Yeah, you know the one.
“Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead”.
Well, the same could be said for life. Sometimes it lasts, and sometimes it hurts, and it’s broken and sometimes, it’s even lost entirely.
Because no matter how perfectly we apply our makeup, or how carefully we try to hide the scars, we really have no control over life. We have no control over if it will last, or if it will hurt instead.
Have you ever stopped? Really stopped, and watched a freshly blown bubble, dance through the sky? As the sunlight hits the surface, and the colours are thrown around like a rainbow in a blender?
I hadn’t either. Not until I become sick. I guess I’ve always been sick. But not like this. I don’t even have to say anything anymore. Everyone knows. People have become so used to me being like this.
Hurt and broken.
Life is like playing Russian Roulette. You don’t get a choice between being healthy, or being sick. You don’t get a choice between life or death. But, you do have some choices. Do you spend your whole life working, just to pay the bills and payments to that car you can’t really afford? Or do you take a walk through the park and listen to the little birds lullabies, as their song makes frantic love to your ears?
What about the sweet smell of spring flowers, as their petals stretch out and reach for the skies? Do you stop to really look at them, admire their simple beauty, or do you just keep walking?
Most people would. But not the dying. Simple things are really the most beautiful. Because when your time is up, there is no use in having that expensive car, or high paying job. You wont need it when you’re gone. But the beauty of things such as the flutter of a butterflies wings, that is forever. You can’t erase that.
As you lay broken and dying in that hospital bed, you don’t dream of fast cars and other expensive material items. You dream of things that are beautiful. Things that make you smile with those dehydrated, cracked lips that are too weak to speak anymore. You laugh at the memory of slipping your vegetables under the dinner table to your dog, even though the pain of laughter rips at your stitches. You drag your IV pole along the cold marble floor to the ward kitchen, and grab as many snacks as your fragile arms can possibly hold, and you sit on your bed with your room mate and you laugh at the movie thats been playing over and over for the last two days.
Why? Why not. We are dying. We have no time for the expenives things in life. To us, they don’t matter anymore. Maybe they did once. But those days are but a sweet memory that stings like a canula thrust into the pale skin of your arm.
We need not have these things anymore. The unspoken words become the most needed. A simple smile across the room to the girl in the bed with the feeding tube snaked around her cheek. A hug. A smile. A simple “I’m here”. Thats what matters. Someone understands. Someone knows.
We are dying. I am dying. I want the simple things in life. They are the most beautiful. They are what matter.