I’ve wanted to do this post for a while, because I think this exercise is one of the most important ones I have done. I am fine, by the way. How are you? Are you good? I do sincerely hope so .I believe funerals, like birthdays and unbirthdays, are completely sacred. It is the last time people gather to sort of meditate on the person you were to them. Sometimes we don’t get to choose what people remember about us. Sometimes people only remember mistakes and fights and failures. But sometimes people remember you in ways that make your heart sing, and you feel you are doing it right. But why wait till you’re dead to be remembered? Why look at the stretch of life before you as a heavy thing and death as the end goal?
How would you like to be remembered when you die?
I wake up, get my coffee and put on my bra. That is when the day truly starts. I look in the mirror to do my make up, a heavy array of colors and eyebrows with more personality than myself. I look into my own eyes, my own face and ask what I want people to see me as. The persona under the name Zakkarrii Edison Daniels is only partly a character. I’m sort of playing myself. A raw, relentless, unreserved beast paces behind these eyes. A wild child of the midnight theater steers this body. A heavy dose of the surreal life courses through these veins. If I have any say in how people see me, I want them to see that.
If I die today, I want them to say that if there was anyone who lived and breathed wonderland it was Zakkarrii. It wasn’t in escapism and avoiding reality. It was awakening the magic inside every person they met. It was the hunger they pursued life with, an unstoppable force of yes. Passion fueled every emotion, from rage to joy to sadness to love. It was the fearlessness they could show in every question, the genuine interest in the smallest details of another human being’s life, the thinking that a person is not just a speck floating through space and no moment is ever truly wasted that made Zakkarrii, Zakkarrii.
I’m sure there is more but you get my point. That is a tall order, I doubt I really live that way right now at this very second. I’m generally abrasive, emotionally distant, social situations still an impossible labyrinth for me to navigate, and I don’t feel I have accomplished much of anything yet. But that is the goal darling, and every day I try to do a little more to make that paragraph not seem like a grandiose declaration of self, but a real accomplishment. Hopefully it only gets longer and those sentences become even more ridiculous.
As for you?
You are not little, you are not weak in your singularity. You are a current of chaos. You are force to reckoned with. You are someone worth knowing, worth saving, worth meeting, worthy of the truest love. Perfection, your perfection, has never been in living up to other people’s expectations of flawless. It is in the pursuit of your ideal self that you became perfect. When you make mistakes, when you feel lost, when you get back up, when you draw yourself your own map through these hellish days and nights that you become perfect. Glory in death is not the destination. Life is. When you wake up, remember how you want to be seen and see yourself that way. Live that life. Get it hunty.
This life is yours for the making. Don’t forget that. Forgive yourself when you fall short, and get back and keep living.
I think the thing that inspired this post is being subtly pressured to submit to the superficial mannerisms of what’s easy and what’s convenient. I’m not really good at submitting to the status quo. I kind of don’t like it. We are not background characters to each other lives. We are complete novels, casually thrown into a bag, and my Chapter 14 weaves a tangled tale with your Chapter 23 and we rewrite what would have been. I would only consider it a wonderful thing to have your ink meet mine.
What were we talking about? Oh yes, death. Don’t wait to live, don’t wait to be brilliant.
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Until next time,
Don’t be hungry for life. Be ravenous.