I think I need to sing more.

The world’s covered in sludge right now. Everyone’s stepping on each other’s toes, and that’s not to say this wave of violence isn’t for a good cause, because it is, and lately we have every reason to rage against. But I’m tired. I’m soaked in it. I’m sitting at my laptop contemplating the blunt inevitability of death, and how one day everyone I’ve ever accidentally crossed paths with at the grocery store self-checkout line and that one overcrowded undergraduate English class taught by a professor we all hated and every hand I’ve shyly grasped during a semi-romantic first date at the movies will one day return to dust for good. Every human body I’ve held close to mine. Thinking this way, it’s nearly impossible to not fall straight into the empties. The existence of death makes life feel exhausting. We fall incurably in love and burn old bridges and wound others for what?

I need a way out of the clutches of death that isn’t death itself. Like growing my own herbs. Or bird-watching. I get why this almost universally appeals to grandfathers and loners alike. I mean, it appeals to me now, too. Pastimes like that give you something to focus on while time brutally blurs the solid shapes of a life together. An anchor to hold onto while the colors run and bleed into each other, the landscape of your life beginning to come undone, unraveling right before your eyes as your bones begin to putrefy.

I think I need to sing more. I’m talking sing like it’s Sunday choir and I’m six-and-a-half and missing my left front tooth and I believe in Our Savior Jesus Christ as my redeemer and the world has to know or nothing about me matters. Sing like tomorrow’s the last day we’ll have music, like we’ll wake up and it’ll be gone as if everything we hum under our breath never existed at all. Sing like I could lose function of my voice box and never sing again, because I actually could, which I guess, in its own right, is one kind of death. 

I’m gonna sing like the world isn’t losing its melody.

Like it’s clean and it’s calm and we can all still carry a tune.

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