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My name is Jackie and I like to take shitty photos, sometimes I string together a fairly good sentence. My imagination is always on overdrive and I have a kickin' life.
All the text on this page is written by Jackie Casey, unless otherwise credited.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

He held my hand, he said, so that he could keep me tethered to the surface of the Earth.

Amy is reading a book called ‘Before I Die’ and it’s basically about a pathetic dying girl. She was defending the book as I paid her out, ‘it’s well-written and lists things that she’ll (the protagonist) will miss’, Amy reckons. Like water in a spider web. Puh-lease. Cliche`anyone? Like anyone will actually miss stupid water droplets in stupid spider webs. But then I started thinking about things I would miss if I died and then I promptly fell into one of those moody black holes thinking about who and what I’d miss if I died right now. My answer was everything. I’d miss everything. Everything except spiderweb’s with water in them, because well, that’s just lame. I’d miss Red Room $5.50 bowls of wedges and the way Cassie throws her head back when she laughs. I’d miss Stacey constantly looking at me with annoyance and disapproval only to crack into a smile, and Teagan whose body literally goes into shutdown when she laughs too hard. I’d miss Amy and the way she constantly says “God you’re shit,” in the same annoying, exasperated tone that I hate to love. I’d miss things like tequila shots and the car racing game on my phone. I’d miss my parents and the stupid conversations I overhear of theirs about shit things like losing weight together and mum’s ridiculous hair cut.
In retrospect also, I have come to the conclusion of that someone dying is not only a tragedy in the fact it’s a loss of life, but it’s a little loss of self for everyone involved. Both times I’ve had significant people die in my life, something I remember clearly and with sadness is the moments before I got the news. I was so unprepared, so clueless that in minutes I’d lose a little of myself and all former knowledge about how life was supposed to be. I remember washing the dishes after a barbeque breakfast, thinking only about the new tub of Neopolitan Ice Cream in the fridge and how I really needed to get to the chocolate before dad did. I remembered being called down to the lounge room, walking slowly down the stairs and sitting on the floor in front of mum and dad, my thoughts still fixated on the chocolate third of tub of ice cream, not knowing what was about to change for me. I was never exactly the same after that day, in the same way no-one is when someone they know dies. And isn’t that a greater perspective on the scope of tragedy that death is? Not only does one life vanish, simultaneously lots and lots of lives are dragged away also. A lot can change in weeks and days and even in seconds, a young guy swings off a beam in his house and suddenly the youthful sense of self of hundreds of young adults is gone and never to return.

If you think about everything you won’t have when you don’t have it anymore; from tequila shots and silly conversations, not only is everything ok, it’s more than a little impetus to get out of bed tomorrow and do everything to kick death, and life I suppose, in the butt.

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