Gone in an Instant

NOTE: Semi-autobiographical visualization of my life that captured my current emotional state (at the time) well. I can hear in my voice, words, and wording how I was still deeply unhappy while trying to paint some nostalgic life picture. It’s good to feel that I’m not in that state anymore

Okay, so we have another story—just insert anyone, maybe even your own, since you know your own backstory and life better than anyone else’s. It’s your beautiful, messed-up story: you were born, maybe you had parents, maybe you didn’t—I don’t really care. You grew up, became a child, then an adult. You worked, maybe went to school, found love, got married, then divorced.

Everything you thought you were living—the American dream, or whatever template of life you were following—gets thrown away. Through months, maybe half a year of panic, struggle, drug abuse, pity parties, and feeling sick of your own emotions while also tapping into them, you finally reach a relative point of peace. You’ll still have some sadness, of course, but that’s normal, and it mixes with happiness—that’s the beauty of life. The beautiful stew of emotions we all live through—and I wouldn’t wish for anything different.

Eventually, you get to a more stable place. You have hope again, a mission, a purpose, and a goal. Not a long-term one, but you know your next step in life. Finally, there’s clarity. Even if you don’t have the full life plan figured out—which nobody does, and if they say they do, they’re full of shit—you have the short-term plan. You feel excitement, and it reminds you of a lot of things. Maybe the first time you left home, left behind friends and family, joined the military, went off to college, or took a job on a fishing boat—whatever it was, you left your old life behind.

That excitement of growth, the success you crave, and the fresh start—it’s a feeling you haven’t had in years. I hope to God you’ve felt it at some point. If you haven’t, you’ll have a hard time relating, but if you have, man, you’re on cloud nine.

You have a week left before abandoning your old life. You’re leaving the country, the town, your old friends—heading to a new place where they don’t even speak your language. You’re going to throw yourself into something new because that’s what you need. And as you take one of your peaceful nighttime strolls, enjoying the clarity, you realize you don’t have to deal with anyone’s shit. No fake smiles, no ignoring faces—you’re just by yourself, thinking about your future, reflecting on your life, your ups and downs.

It feels like a beautiful story, a triumph. You’re filled with nostalgia—good memories, bad memories—and you realize, in an instant, it could all be gone. You don’t wish for it to be gone, you don’t wish to die, but you recognize the fragility of it. While walking down that sidewalk, you could step into the road, and one of those cars could hit you. Maybe they wouldn’t see you in the dark—your weird, dark clothes—and in a blink, that beautiful life, that beautiful plan, those beautiful emotions could vanish.

You’d be nothing but a crumpled pile of flesh on the road, traumatizing someone else. All the friends and family who were excited, living off your energy and hope for the future, would be devastated by the news: your life cut too short, too soon. It’s a beautiful tragedy—that feeling of being missed. In some sick way, you almost savor it—the cheap escape from life, instead of staying strong and moving forward to reach your goals.