flashing

Life often seems so vague and untouched, like a dream that shifts in and out of focus. To be so overwhelmed by the moment, then to step back and question that moment's significance - I feel like there's more than one me wearing this skin.

They say that in the moment before your death, your life flashes before your eyes. Maybe this defines me, maybe I'm trapped in that moment. I own my mortality; it's here with me, holding my hand. It's whispering in my ear, speaking of ends wrapped up in beginnings. Life is passing by before me, just out of reach, just beyond my grasp... and so I see, I marvel, and I maybe live.

But that's the point, isn't it? Haven't we just been dying since our birth? This view of the whole doesn't care about the present - it cares what the present resolves into. Every silver lining accentuates a dark cloud, and therein is the real meat to life, the part we gloss over. Why can't we find beauty there?