I’m beginning to think that others are taking offense to my “nothing matters” stance. It’s not like I’m trying to convince you not to have passion and emotion about life, it’s just FOR ME, none of that really matters.
In thinking about the death of Will, a poet who was murdered earlier this year, I can’t stop the images from playing in my head. Me and him standing outside of his poetry spot. Me and him riding up 95 North together. Me watching him perform. Sharing a cigarette with him. He didn’t like me much but I didn’t care, I was still nice to him anyway.
But now- he just- exists only in my memory. His image is very real. When he crosses my mind I can almost smell his cigarettes or the cologne he used to wear. I can feel the way he felt when I hugged him. He is still real to me, in my mind, yet, he’s not here anymore.
When I cease to exist on this plane, maybe people will remember that I helped them in some way or made them laugh or encouraged them and maybe some people will cry. But really, that’s such a shame because while I’m here I know that I’m not on anyone’s priority list of people. I’m on many people’s “I hate her” list, but on no one’s “I can’t live without her” list.
Well, except for my sons. Through my sons, I feel like there is a demand for me on this earth. I don’t feel a need to be demanded by many, just to have someone here think of me and want to see me and interact with me. My boys do that for me.
I’m not sad about this at all. It’s like me and the universe have an understanding. When you know you matter to no one, you don’t take shit personally. Everyone is transparent and all of their words and actions that I could take personally- I don’t. That’s because to them, I’m a ghost and a future memory and they’re a future memory for me too.
Nothing is permanent. None of my friends are permanent. As much as Sylvia and I speak right now, in a few days or weeks, she could decide she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me and we could stop speaking. Nothing matters. No one matters. I matter to no one. Everything is temporary.
I try to make strides in helping people to achieve their passions but it doesn’t sting when no one supports my vision because- well- I know I don’t matter. I try to do big things and I’m not afraid because if no one sees things my way it’s not my fault it’s just that- I don’t matter to anyone anyway.
This is all one big game. We’re all taught to value things that don’t really matter but if we don’t then our lives have no meaning. I see through the veil. I know that none of this matters.
If I lose my job, they’ll find someone to cover my shift easily. I don’t matter.
If I move out of this house, they’ll find another roommate. I don’t matter.
If I were to die, my Mama- has another daughter. It’s not that serious.
But- my sons only have one Mom.
So it’s for them that I try to take life a little seriously. If they did not exist- OH BOY- I would be so loose living in a foreign country somewhere in a tribe.
I picture myself going through the ages and stages of life, walking and aging, walking and aging- alone.
My face is smiling, interested, marveling at the changes that are occurring around me, yet detached from allowing any of it to define me.
I am nothing. I get that. I mean nothing to no one, except for my sons. I accept that.
Life goes on. People smile. People procreate. People argue and be mean to each other. People manipulate and try to claw their way to the top thinking that hurting each other is the only way to prosper then on their deathbeds they cry because they realize- I didn’t have to hurt so many people, it didn’t really matter.
it’s a cycle.
Everyone does it.
I don’t wanna participate in it but I have to while I walk through this experience.
So I’ll keep walking and smiling, marveling at the sights around me, waiting for the time when my ride ends and I truly become that which I am really- nothing.