R.I.P

It's what I want heaven to look like.

A few days ago I learned that one of my teacher's mom died. Erm, he's not my teacher, per se. But he's the teacher supporter of our GSA. (Gay-Straight Alliance), and the news completely shocked me. It shouldn't have, though, because earlier he was telling stories of how his mother had another stroke that day and how stressed he was in the whole situation.
So, one day I walk in the room, wondering where the teacher is, and Michael tells me he's in Ireland.
"Why?" I asked, and he delivers the bad news.

I have a funny view about death. Whenever I muster up the level of boredom needed to achieve a series of thought leading to death, I really really think about it. When you die, what really happens? Nobody knows. The ones that do know are "unavailable" at the moment. "Pcchhtttt- 1-800-SOULS, how may I decompose you?"

Sigh. It just bugs me how weird the whole concept of death is. It's ending the world we've known all our lives. And I don't think you get another shot. You don't "reincarnate". No more hangin'out on a Saturday Night causing a ruckus in the movie theater, no more crazy re-enactments of how our teachers peeved us off that day, no more nothing. Nada.

Why wasn't I born in the 80's? Or the 1800's, or in the Crustacea Era. Why was I born now?
Why not back then, when it was all so boring compared to how life is now? Life would have been so much simpler. And why wasn't I uglier? Or prettier? Why MY face? Why not someone else's, or maybe lead the life of a rich, spoiled brat; dictating the world in fashion the way I view it to be and draining my parent's bank accounts. Or a poor country girl. Humble and hard-working to the point of naiveness and innocence.

To how life has so many more opportunities, how we've all strived for open-minded thinking, Out of the box and all that fun stuff. Women can vote, black people aren't slaves anymore. It's all so different, arguably better, and more technological.

Was I meant to inspire, and if so, how? I want to inspire. I want to show everyone that I'm not afraid, but I am a little. Just a tinsy bit. Because if I was meant to create something, or be someone that touches the lives of others--What's to say I won't? That in some over-the-turn, inane desire to be my own person and control my own outcome gets in the way of why was I truly put here for?

But then again, what if there IS not reason for your existence?

...My head hurts.