• rileysoloner

my quiet, gentle goth phase

Hey so depression, right!? Feels bad man.

Unexpectedly, a hopeful switch flips in places where I least expect them to. Once in a while.

I journal every morning. Sometimes I have an idea and go from there. Most times, I don't want to do it, and I just start pounding keys until I get annoyed and leave to mindlessly look at the news or YouTube.

About a week ago, I was typing fast, forcing thoughts out, when I typed "I died." And so I went from there, writing as if I had died. What would I want to communicate to whoever was reading, if I no longer could? It was a message of love and kindness, and it just grew from there. There were some apologies and some reassurance that I'm not fully gone. You're, you're reading my words, after all.

I surprised myself, which is not something I do very often when writing. It felt a lot better than I had expected. At first I was self conscious. Obviously my self critic was peering over me, wondering if it was smart to write something that could be misconstrued as a suicide note. No, asshole, that's not what this was. It kind of felt like a "just in case I leave early, here are some very basic things I want to leave you with." And that felt like a good place to start from.

Death is so close, all the time. I'm not trying to be dramatic, but there's a pandemic going on outside and I live half a block away from the hospital. I walk by the emergency tents and the morgue trucks to get my groceries.

I have been interested in death for about as long as I can remember. My life started with some very close brushes with death, and I think I've carried an intuition of that ever since. As a youngster I loved The Grim Reaper. The versions from Bill & Ted's Bogus Journey and Monty Python's The Meaning of Life, especially. Beetlejuice was one of my most replayed VHS tapes. Death and the afterlife could be funny, weird and exciting. Let's hope so.

Anyway, in case I die: I love you so much. Thank you for everything. Carry me. I'm not that heavy.

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