Sleep Don't Weep

(12/01/10; sharpie, pencil, highlighter; on binder paper)

I just read a poem written by my Grandma Diane. Her son died within the last two years or so (I never really knew him), and the poem was called "The Veil," referring to her veil of hidden emotions. It was really touching and really well written. I think I'll write tonight. And you wonder where all of "my" things came from...language from my mom, music from my dad, art from my grandpa, and words/language from my grandma.

Nothing seems real right now. Not in a bad, emo way. But more like so many things are happening; it's the start of a major transition period. In 9 days, I'm an adult, and in 9-10 months, I'll be living in a dorm without my parents. Part of me feels like I missed out on many things in my "other life," by which I mean my biological family. I never got a chance to grow up with them, and the only ones I've met have been my grandparents. Even though I know them, I don't feel like we really know each other. They're just like those family friends you go to dinner with twice a year, if that, and "sort of" know. Maybe I would have been further inspired by all my family members...after all, they seem to be creative.

As morbid as this sounds (and I'm sure I've said this on here before), I'm constantly of the fact that I will die. That the moment is imminent, that one day I won't hear my favorite song, that one day I won't be around mountains and trees. That the walnut tree in my backyard is, indeed, perishable, and that, though it's been around for who knows how many years already, it will eventually be another organic pile of ashes. An organic pile of ashes within the earth. The earth that will someday not exist. Which currently exists within time. But time will expire, as well. But will it? Will the universe ever just burst and become a void of nothingness? I can point straight up right now and know that if I were to extend a line from my finger (assuming all obstacles were permeable), it would go on forever. Through vast abysses without gravity, without gas, without anything. How can we exist and have these notions and be human? Why? "In the end, it doesn't even matter." Pale blue dot. Atoms...nothingness. Scales, perspectives, variables.

I think too much.