Still Breathing

…And God said, 

Not this time. 

It would be a fucking miracle, if I could turn every sad moment into something beautiful. It would make me a worker of miracles, a Messiah, foretold in ancient prophecy. The reality is, I’m just a collection of cells, mostly empty space held together with chemical reaction and energy. I’m just a ‘one’ in a world full of solitary and altogether unremarkable souls. 

(Speaking of souls, I’m not even sure such a thing exists. My consciousness could be just a trick I play on myself. But I digress…)

If I could remake my life, I would do so many things better. I’ve been thinking that for a long time, but now I am starting to wonder, 

Would I?

I could have gone to college when I was eleven years old. I was a child prodigy, too smart for the school system, too smart to be taught anything, too smart for anyone to realize that I was just a prepubescent boy, full of fear and emotion, full of hidden secrets and trauma disguised by sarcasm and smiles. If I had gone to college then, maybe I wouldn’t have fell in with the stoners and wasters, the outcasts that treated me like I was one of them, the only group that accepted me. Maybe. 

I could have married my true love when I was twenty-three. She would have said yes, if I asked her. If I had, maybe we would have lived close to our hometown beaches all of this time, maybe our kids would be older, maybe I would have had a better support system when my loved ones started dying, maybe I would have been motivated by love, earlier, to improve myself, to grow, to become whatever I am now. Maybe. 

I could have studied and received several degrees, if I had tried harder. I could have built a better career for myself, at a younger age. I could be much more successful, financially, than I am. If I had made better choices. If I had cared more. If I had tried better ways. Maybe. 


I could have successfully committed suicide, any of the seven times I tried. I could have overdosed and died. I could have hit my brakes a second later and been wrecked by a steel lightpost when I was twenty-one. I could have fallen asleep with lit cigarettes and burned up. I could have ignored my hallucinations and kept doing drugs until my heart exploded. I could have ignored my intuition and gone to those places where I would likely have been killed. I could have done so much worse. 

I could be alone, I could be dead, I could be completely fucked by my own ignorance. I could be in prison. I could be a serial killer. I could be everything awful that I have avoided. 

Maybe, just maybe, 

I am what and where I am supposed to be

 And I’ll never know, any other road, 

Because I chose this one. 

Maybe I still have the ability, the time, the opportunity to work some miracles in my life. Maybe I can still be something more, something better, something beautiful. 


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