In the days after, I have this nagging thought. It lasts until I die. Is that weird? I mean, a lot of times I think I’m the only person who’s ever had a certain thought, a particular feeling. And I just KNOW no one else ever has.
Which is total bullshit. Thinking at that point, days after we first slept together, that I was the only one to ever have the shallow feeling of…no, not regret…something else.
I should’ve known better.
So, this is the part in the story where I ruin it for you: I’m not dead. Not really. Me telling you these things about what’s happening now and years later and years before, this is me telling you how everything is. Because this is very much the way the universe works if you just learn to accept it.
I’m not sure what I mean by that.
But there are no surprises for me, and I never forget. When I was five I knew that I would die when I’m sixty, in a hospital bed. When I was four I knew I would know in a year when I would die. I remembered everything from when I first opened my eyes but it wasn’t until I grew that I could assemble these bits into something I could understand. Even my death. I was ten when I realized that the man with the blue paper cap and mask was my mother’s doctor.
When I was fifteen, I’m walking to across the street on the way home and I see myself when I am thirty and it’s disappointing to know everywhere you go, there are no surprises.
Think of it like memories, like thinking. That mind’s eye people talk about? That’s where I’d see everything that had already happened and what would happen. It wasn’t prescience but like memories, snippets of life - my life - that cannot be changed because everything is happening right now and always.
Imagine everything is on a page, from when you’re born to when you die, and you look at the page. You don’t read it left to right, top to bottom. You take it all in simultaneously because that’s just how it is. How once you learn how to read it’s impossible for you to not understand words, that’s how my life is to me. Things happen as they must and I go along for the ride.
Years ago, this uneasy feeling isn’t something new. But then, like now, like years from now, I will have this feeling after every time we have sex. After every time we go out and eat at restaurants and cafes. And it happens from this point forward and until I’m done and it will be always with him.
I should maybe think of why this is, but I never do because I know he and I will be together until the end. I wonder if this is what guilt is. What fear is.
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