Fight World Hunger

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Thursday, December 08, 2005

I died from not knowing, I died because I knew

Arising from the dead brings back a lot of Hollywood notions of drama and intrigue. Its perhaps one of the most dramatized unnatural occurences that seems to give it an aura of fear or an element of cool. But in more realistic terms, arising from the dead may not be as pleasant as it is portrayed. The reason why these beings are making such gnarly noises is because it hurts like hell, and their head is spinning and nothing they can do that will ease that pain.

Everytime I OD, (Over Drink, which is legal), I feel like I died and then the next morning I have been given a new lease of life. I hate hangovers. I hate the feeling of confusion (who did I call? what did I say?), and the paranoia, which happened only very recently. A few hours ago I imagined my liver finally giving up on me. I felt like regurgitating everything from inside but there really is nothing left to come out. I can feel my body floating over all ends of the room, refusing to stay with the body like similar poles of two magnets. I imagined what everyone was doing and what they were saying as I hovered above them spiritually. In the end I couldn't tell reality from fiction: and I don't even do any mind-bending drugs.

I used to die from not knowing certain things. Answers I was seeking. Its funny how things like that progresses and eventually you find what you were seeking when you have stopped altogether. Then I realized that perhaps some things without a definitive answer spells hope. I don't need hope. I give it the finger and send it packing. Last night I died because I knew, and I hope that the story ends there.