Completely Undone

Photograph: Sourabh Panari/Unsplash I didn't know what to do, but I knew I couldn't go on much longer. It had been years since I felt...right? Normal? I don't know what word fits. I just know that it had been years since I experienced it. Maybe never. My life was good, envious. Yet, despite all that, I couldn't stop the despair. The sense of impending doom. The feeling of unease. On paper, I was healthy. Everything was in the appropriate ranges and ratios. Except maybe my weight, but who wasn't a bit chunky in modern times? Pounds aside, my bill of health was snow-white. But that's only according to the things that can be measured. The things that we know to count. The things that technology is capable of measuring. But what about everything else? Numbers unseen, unknown, and unknowable? How was I in terms of those? I have no way to prove it, but I was deathly ill in the realm of the unquantifiable. Somewhere deep inside of me was a pit, a void. I could sense th...

  Photograph: Matheo JBT/Unsplash I always thought that dying would be panicked and painful. That lifetimes would flash before me—memories of moments long forgotten. I expected it to be so sad and lonely that I’d wish for one more—breath, hug, day, kiss goodbye.  I was wrong. Dying is rather peaceful if you let it be. I learned this on a random summer day in my youth. It was supposed to be a typical day. All days are supposed to be ordinary until suddenly they’re not. Dad and I took our usual trip to the beach. We’d spend the day enjoying the sun, playing in the sand, pausing the mundane. One of my favorite games was standing in the shallow spots near the shore and jumping over incoming waves. Dad enjoyed this too. I remember holding his hand and waiting for another wave to appear, but when it did, it was different. I’m unsure whether it was too high or forceful or if something disturbed it a little more than others. Perhaps it wasn’t different. Maybe we were different. Whatev...