all things go.

“You can be as mad as a mad dog at the way things went, you can curse the fates, but when it comes to the end, you have to let go.”
-- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

i told myself i was going to go to sleep hours ago, but all i can think about are things that scare me. we all have silly fears, right? i'm afraid of a lot of things: roller coasters, spiders, clowns, blankets/pillows covering my whole face, failure, disappointing people, settling, trusting, heights, etc... even specific things like the gas pump exploding whenever i grab the handle. i could go on forever.

but perhaps the fear that is bothering me most right now, as i am a step below a panic attack, is growing old. i don't know why i feel the need to go in-depth about this, or why i started writing this particular blog in the first place, but i've become obsessively afraid of it, to an unhealthy extent. i am SO terrified of losing my memory, i almost can't stand thinking about it. i don't want people to have to take care of me. i don't want to be paranoid, believing everyone is lying to me. i don't want to go through the degeneration of my mind. i don't want to live a life, and then not remember it once i'm old.

but even more than all of that, i'm afraid i won't have lived a life i'd WANT to remember in the first place. i think one of the worst feelings to exist would be regret, without time to start over. to know that i did everything wrong. that i took the wrong path, and didn't find the happiness i was looking for, but was too caught up in my worries and the drama and the obligations to notice that i was letting the sand of my hourglass slip through my fingers, untreasured. to know that i left the right people for the wrong ones, or that i let the right ones walk through my life, taken for granted. that i cared too much about stuff, and not enough about people, when in reality all things go.*

that i have lived a life as a prisoner to myself, and to the things society shoves at me, trying to convince me that they are what "happiness" is made of.
that i have lived not knowing myself, drowning in the mistakes that leave me sleepless as it is.

"if i was crying in the van with my friend,
it was for freedom,
from myself and from the land.
i made a lot of mistakes.
i made a lot of mistakes.
i made a lot of mistakes.
i made a lot of mistakes."*

i forget, sometimes, to tell the people i care about how much they mean to me. i forget, sometimes, that my material possessions mean nothing and i shouldn't be so attached to these things i won't be taking with me. i forget, sometimes, that time flies a lot faster than i notice, and that i should try to revel in the moments while i have them. because the truth is, all we have is time. what we do with it, who we spend it with, and how much we value it... well, that's up to us. i hope that you value it more than any other possession. time isn't money. time is life.

and i suppose all we can do is stumble to put it where it needs to be, as we place notches in the timeline of our existence. in the end, that should be enough. it has to be.

"You came to take us-
all things go, all things go."*

always hoping i take my own advice,
-c.


soundtrack: sufjan stevens*, copeland.