Wednesday, September 13, 2017

Do-Overs

Do-overs.

You don't get them in real life.

I don't spend much time thinking about do-overs since my psychiatrist set me up with medication to cure what ailed me (50mg of pristiq daily for major depressive disorder).

But I'm thinking about do-overs tonight.

I'm thinking an awful lot about questions I can't answer, that others can't answer, and that probably aren't even worth dwelling on.

During my years of depression, I spent a lot of time wondering about how my life would be different if things had gone differently.

When I was in the 7th grade, the girl I had a crush on died in front of my very own eyes. Of course, I didn't know she was dead at the time. I thought she'd just fainted (fainting, apparently, is only reserved for damsels in distress from 40s era black and white films). She had volunteered to lead our gym class in some warm-ups and stretching. Ends up she had some kind of undetectable heart condition and that was all she wrote.

Being that I was a horrifically self-tortured by depression and melancholia from about the age of 8, these type of events didn't do much to encourage my faith in the world or my own existence.

It'd be a lie if I told you I think about that girl all the time... but every now and again my mind drifts back to those type of moments... the kind where your entire world seems to hinge on the outcome of some random, or not-so-random, occurrence.

By nature, memories don't tend to be tangible... but those are the type of moments that when I close my eyes, I can not only remember being there... but feeling as though I'm still there.

The fact that we don't get do-overs bothers me.

-J

PS - Wish I had more time to investigate how death/loss might arrest development of one's own identity. Too busy with school to do my own research, but if someone knows anything about it, drop it in the comments.

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