It echoed louder

than usual that night.

The moon poured through cracks in the blinds, even still the room was as dead as a mausoleum. From one side came the quiet pips of someone snoozing quietly, from the other wisps of music in the air. I was comfortable though, laying on my bed running through my memories, watching the highlight reels.

The headphones sang their songs and brought memory after memory. The darkness was my blanket, engulfing me in that comfort of anonymity, in that area where nothing was real and everything was only a faint memory of a time where almost nothing seemed real. The echoes of laughter rang through my ears, the sounds of children on some island in the middle of a vast sea enjoying life without hesitation. The lawn was washed out, too green to be real; and the sun washed everything white, a contrast to the darkness which I lay in, a floating sun burnt 70's polaroid hinting of a time when nothing mattered.

The neighborhood was small, uninteresting and run down. Boxes of the same looking little apartment were huddled together within the gates but at the west end of the complex, on the far corner sat a little piece of heaven within this purgatory. There, the door would open wide to a vast wide open green field, I remember you could comfortably fit 22 of the best football players you could find in little Garden Grove. At one end of the field giant trees lumbered over the whole complex, their gigantic arms stretching out past anything my little limbs could ever reach; and soft green grass till the opposite end.

One room held all the wisdom, experience, lies, and problems. Another held hope for the future, evolution and adaptation. And yet another helped pay the bills. The grand hall contained our souls, entrapped in the tube and glued to the chairs. Our galley, well food.

It feels good, to be so lost within oneself sometimes.

It's when the memories burn brighter than the sun that I can't help but want to go back to that place. When the audio of happiness stream from one side of my head to the other, echoing as it comes back, and back, and back, and back...

A surprise event

The new year came and went but I was too busy to notice.

Straddled down in the ICU fighting...fighting...fighting for what?

Life? What is it?

It's strange. While I lay in my bed with morphine pumping through my body I got scared for the first time in my life. I got scared about life.

I didn't get scared that I was going to lose my life that night, no never, i'm too much of a fighter to go out like that. I wasn't scared that I was going to never wake up but I was scared that had I not woken up, what would have been of my life?

What would people remember? That every time I inhaled some smoke that I could blow a ridiculous O? That I was phenomenal at Halo? I didn't know, I still don't. That night I could have disappeared off the face of the planet, and maybe that could have been my end.

It's funny, the kid who was all the questions and ponders, abstractly might I add, about life could have lost his life in some stupid event that was not even important. For the first time in my life I was scared that I would have ended up being nobody.

Nothing.

There already is enough Nothing and enough Nobodies in this universe, especially on this tiny dot in the middle of the infinite nothingness we know as Space.

But it was a good experience sitting on my death bed, IV's streaming out of my arms, monitor pads watching my heart; I learned that I can't just be NOBODY, and that my life right NOW is just that - nothing. I have nothing to look forward too, and nobody to help share it. I've never been the kind of person to want that routine life I've never been one to join the idiot box generation either, then why would I waste my time? Why would I waste the precious seconds I've been granted to experience and understand the most I can doing nothing and being no one?

Is it because I can't find my calling? Or because I can't find a place to be someone?

The truth is I don't know. I've accepted the fact that somethings I will never know, and that sometimes you don't need to know. Life can't wait for anyone and life sure as hell isn't going to land in front of me.

The following night I was left alone to recover and I thought about myself and those close to me. There's only one way I can be happy I realized, and I have to take action now because if I don't I might one day die as a nobody, who did nothing. And that scares me more than death itself.