adventures in fangirl

The way the backs of my eyes hurt feels like an indefensible, naked statement: the world's a poorer place. It feels indulgent and laden with guilt. Here we are, here we always are, in between other deaths, people with less success and shorter lives, close and far away. It feels selfish to mourn sometimes, preposterous to take one loss and stretch it across so much. But there's only so much mass in the universe, and it feels like a colossal waste that atoms, that have taken such balletic pains to collide and form stars and decay and become an individual person, should be undone just like that. A whole person, vanished.

I don't believe in god. I have a hard time with the sentiment that hopefully he's at peace now. I have a hard time with oblivion being okay.

Robin Williams died the day after my dad's birthday. He's always been the same age as my mom; I think of that whenever I see his birth year. I have more memories of laughing with him than I do with my own dad, for all that my dad lived for 4 years longer. What that says about me or him or my family life is probably telling of something.

I have a hard time with oblivion.