a brief death note

I can write about death all I want, read about it in every book I open. But no matter how much I try to reach into the depths of those five letters, no matter how much I research about it in encyclopedias, no matter how many grievous poems I read or obituaries I look up or discussions I have with my friends, I will never actually feel that pain until it happens, to me. It's like that scene from Good Will Hunting.

Sean: So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you... I don't see an intelligent, confident man... I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you're a genius Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my fucking life apart. You're an orphan right? [Will nods]

Sean: You think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally... I don't give a shit about all that, because you know what, I can't learn anything from you, I can't read in some fuckin' book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't want to do that do you sport? You're terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.

So I'm going to stop acting as if I know you, as if I know your intentions. I'm going to stop criticizing in my head, thinking of all the things you should be doing, and start to listen, to sympathize instead. Because what do I know? I've never felt so utterly depressed that I decided to hide a knife in my drawer to make me feel alive. I don't know what it means to be traumatized by a broken family or a death of a close friend. It's all so unreal, all so distant, all so separate from this safe little bubble that I've been so fortunate to stay inside. Sure, I hear stories. But what do I know?

I'll tell you what I do understand though, and that's that any one of you could leave me at any second. That even though death hasn't happened in my life yet, it's going to. That none of us are going to stay here forever, that there's no guarantee that we're all going to make it to college and beyond. So here's to some loving, that absolutely everyone deserves. It's not worth it to be mean.