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Eh whatever I feel like writing
...
Cait
I lay my back on this stiff hotel couch, staring at a blank ceiling. The Daily Show is playing in the background, I left the TV on, and I'm listening to Gothic Storm's We Meet In Dreams. It's 2AM now and I'm staring at this screen wondering just how I got here. Have you ever thought about it?

It's easy to give simple answers. I took a plane. I booked a hotel. Now I'm lying on a couch north of Denver. Those are normal answers to a question I didn't ask. I asked: Have you ever thought about it? Have you thought of all the events that lead to now? If you turn back the clock on your life it's easy to draw a line from the beginning. You were a child. You grew up, you loved, you lost, and you learned. But that's not impressive--no--we have to go back farther. To your mother, your father, your grandparents, and those who came before.

Every human is born a legacy, a standing achievement of our ancestors. It's not something we think about every day--it's not something we're programmed to think about--but it's important isn't it? To remember that we're descended from pioneers, artists, philosophers, soldiers, and holy men. Men that traveled, men that created, men that prayed, men that thought--and fought--and died. I think it's amazing that after a history of conflict, disease, disaster, and famine, that any of us are still alive.

Now I lay awake thinking about it. That I'm here because they succeeded. Because they lived lives so like mine. They surely suffered over things big and small, worked hard and slacked off, loved heartbreakers just many times, and--perhaps--lay like I. I wonder if they wondered like me; about everything that came before them and everything that would come after. Were they so aware of their impending death? Did it scare them, did it depress them, or did they accept it all together?

I don't know how my ancestors died, but I'm sure they thought the same thing. Was it worth it? Was all the suffering, the agonizing, the failure, and the success, worth living for? For some it might have been, because they knew they'd passed down their blood. They knew that even though they died, they'd done something that would last beyond the cold stone of their grave. But for others . . . Well--you told me something, before.

"You flatter me too much. I'll grow such an ego."

Flattery is excessive and insincere praise. Is that what you think this?

When I met you--you were a lot of things. You were elegant, beautiful, strong, wicked, cunning, and exceedingly brilliant. But you lacked two qualities: Ambition and pride. You were all of these amazing, incredible things, but somewhere along the way you stopped having pride in yourself, and you stopped desiring more from life.

I want to grab you by the shoulders and tell you, over and over again, how amazing you are. Because I--I . . . I look at you. I look at you and I think: So many people came before her, so many people lived so that she could live. After everything you've gone through--everything you've struggled with, fought against, rose above--I think you've turned out wonderfully. I think your ancestors would have been damn proud to know they lived for you. I know I would have been. After the first night we talked, I thought: 'Well I'm glad I lived this long, because she just validated my whole existence.'

You've talked to me about the ambitions you once had. I remember. But how long are you going to wait, lying there as if you're asleep? No one lives forever, dear. Tens of thousands die every day, and trust me they would beg to be us. We're not just young, we're not just brilliant, but we're both talented. We have the capability to go anywhere and do anything. Our lives are the envy of the world.

Where do you want to be? We could be on a mountain, in a meadow, or that cold, rain drizzled shore. We could be in a highrise apartment overlooking a city skyline. We could travel across the world, visit every continent, and see everything the world has to offer. We could drive for miles in any direction, get lost and hang out in the dark, staring up at the sky. Or you could just . . . sit here on this couch with me.

I guess, what I'm saying is . . . After all that we've been through. After all that's happened to bring us here in the first place. And for all those that have died in utter futility failing to live their dreams. Who are we, the able, to not live brilliantly? Who are we to not try and live as hard as we can?

You're stunning, body and soul. You're like nothing that exists and nothing that will exist again. I'm not trying to flatter you and not trying to make your ego big. I'm--I'm saying you have wings too. I know you're afraid to fly, but you have to trust me here. You're incredible.





 
 
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