Proof of Life

WHY THE FUCK DO I EVEN CARE; especially after everything that’s had happened?

Actually scratch ^that. Shitty question to type out loud. I know why.

Can’t handle another dead student listlessly lingering in the background of all the days that end in y. Can’t be this girl. And sure as shit can’t be today. Not dying on my watch. Not sure my conscience can accommodate another add-on into the untimely deaths category but what the hell do I know; maybe it just feels that way.

Later on I’d be told that feelings are fleeting. 

Or rather, while attending class sometime after I’d been provided with an ultimatium from someone I used to know, a teacher would posit the…perspective that feelings are fleeting in the grand scheme of human experience type things. Given the context of what she was speaking to and about that morning, it was a necessary + worthwhile vantage point to consider. And I think in large part her POV = accurate more of the time than like, not of the time. Like, you’re hungry until you’re full. You’re tired until you’re rested. You’re seeing red until 7 days later when you’re not seeing red anymore.

Conversely (and what we didn’t dive into during that particular AM sesh), was that some feelings last. This I know to be true cuz I’m still feeling them; and I suspect on some level I always will.

3 different clocks were ticking after the suicidal 4-something admin phone call arrived.

Clock 1 was of the mandatory reporter less than 24 hours I had to confirm proof-of-life for the suicidal summer student variety.

Clock 2 pertained to…well, still all ^that, completing 21 Fall Class Schedules even though it was still July, and packing for a much needed road trip that would allow me to get the fuck out of Georgia for a few days.

Clock 3. Man. Yeah. Clock 3. Fuck. Ok yeah. The hands of Clock 3 casually yet consistently clicked away towards the amount of time I had left to live. Time that I could feel becoming increasingly less the longer and longer I tried to be a teacher.

Olly was fast asleep in the back seat of Avalon Ron. Daylight danced through the canopy we drove beneath. His dinosaur blankie rested lazily atop his head and for a brief moment, I let myself feel not at peace, but peace.

I remember this part well cuz it was the last time I was able to freely do such things.

I remember this part well cuz it was fleeting.