A mad, mad world

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, delirious of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous roman candles exploding across the stars..." - Jack Kerouac

I woke up early this morning and spent it going over all of the old letters Matt and I wrote to each other. It's funny, I wrote a lot. Matt wrote very little. After about a year of knowing each other, Matt had a tendency to just tell me what he was feeling. He never really wrote me cards or anything like that. He'd show me. I guess it all goes back to the beauty of impermanence - it is a wonderful thing because it doesn't last forever.

( Hindsight is 20/20 )

If there is anything I have taken from this experience, it is a sheer, overwhelming love for life and the people I'm with. I've always loved life, but in the last six months I have lost track of that with all of the studying, stressing out, and reaching for a perfection I know that no one can attain. Matt has made the world more vivid to me, in life, and in death. I wrote in a letter to him that I would want Matt to live, to breathe, to move on with a clear heart should I ever die. While he never told me outright (Matt never talked to me about death - he always lived in the now), I know he'd want me to do the same.

So I go on in this mad, crazy, ever-spinning world to new adventures. Every day is so special. Every day I breathe is so good. While I miss Matt, I am so grateful to have the time that I do to share this world with the rest of you. I hope you find love and peace in your day as well.

Enough philosophy. I have Behavioral Ecology of the Insects to study. (mmmm crunchy!)

(no subject)

So it's really friggin' late, and I should be at home studying for my eight o'clock final, but here I am in the computer lab typing yet another entry for livejournal. Go figure.

( Ramblings on Fate )

This is so hard. Everyday I see something cool that Matt would like, and I want to tell him about it. I say it out loud anyway, as he just might be around to hear it, but it's not the same. I can't kiss his skin, or rub his neck, or lie next to him in our bed and talk the cares, joys, and little wonders of the day into memory. And that sucks.

I keep telling myself that it was a blessing that I could be there to talk Matt through dying. I keep telling myself that my being there helped him to move on. I keep telling myself that he won't just hang around, or be stuck in limbo because he knows that I'll do all right. I hope all of that is true.

It's just that some moments in the day are much more beige without Matt to share them with. And some moments of the day are so much more beautiful for my understanding of how fragile, impermanent, and mutable the world really is. It pulls me in two directions; I find myself sad that the world is so much more dull and angry that I should feel that way because life is a beautiful thing.

I'll stop here before it gets far too late in the evening for me to get some actual studying done. I've been unable to focus, but I've got to keep my "C" in this class. I have to finish what I've started.