I think maybe half my family is dead. Dead but alive, corpses in heaving, breathing skin that begs to be seen to be believed. An uncle, living peacefully on his own, silent and detached from the entire world. Another, going through the motions, struggling yet incapable of caring. An aunt who cries at her mother's funeral and asks you why you don't smile more on the same span of time.

Tick, tock.

I suppose we all live however we can. The only real qualification for it is breathing after all, right?

I only find it funny now, the quiet memory. It buzzes about gently, pushing, prodding, hard for me to believe. I remember as a child, watching a movie where a woman simply slipped in her bathroom and died on the very spot. An older one, tired, fragile. I told myself it couldn't happen to me, as terrifying and sudden as it was.

And then, it did.

Imagine entering a possible afterlife with the knowledge that your personal, forever death story was a single misstep. Well... Better than being murdered, I suppose.

A number of things ran through my mind as people began to crowd around me. I didn't understand why - that is, until the pain finally hit and I finally realised that the gentle haze at the back of my head was getting worse and worse and worse. I'd never seen so much blood in my life. Blood on my hands, blood on their hands, blood all over my clothes. I threw away those clothes after trying to wash away the memories.

Scarlet stains, traveller.

And - can I be honest? The trip to the hospital was such a funny thing, now. I was in a panic, then but I can shake my head gently at my past self today because tell me why I was bleeding myself to near-unconsciousness, yet I was begging them to please calm down as I cried, please don't stress yourself too much, don't make a fuss, this isn't important- I am not important. Even when you're thinking the lights are about to go out on life, somehow, you find your old habits never quite die.

I remember thinking this was it. And I remember when that finally hit me as I was put on a hospital bed. Existence was about to be extinguished. And at first, I thought about my family. About how my sister would feel. My parents who had waited a near-decade for their "disappointment" child to exist, at least by my overly high standards of then. And then, I thought of myself.

I thought of my life. I thought of how inconsequential everything was. I thought about the end. I waited for the black to cloud my vision, sinking calmly into the bed. And all of a sudden, it was gone. Blown to oblivion. Every anxious thought. Every person I'd ever lowered myself to accommodate. Every decision I'd made to please all but myself. Nothing mattered, anymore. And I was alone.

It was a peace I'd never felt before. Not in a church, not in my mother's arms, not hurting myself or sitting pretty in an air-conditioned room or reading a sappy fanfiction. It was peace and it was oblivion. And I wondered why every day alive couldn't have been like this. All we do is keep ourselves busy, waiting around to die anyway, right?

The end of the light show. What a lovely thing. To simply slip away...

I survived, of course. Got myself a scar that you can still feel if you press a finger to the puckered skin and was sent right back to my lodgings. Over and out. Alive, still. Nothing matters is still one of the most strangely comforting things I can ever think. The words sink into me, patting my head with gentle, motherly wisdom, promising me that that interaction and that horrible memory and that missed test will soon disappear into the aether.

Slacken up, a bit. We're too obsessed with being alive these days. Don't be too desperate for that existent feeling. I've been feeling borderline dead again for some time now, on and off, like so many people I've known. Relax into it. Remember nothing matters. Cut a few toxic strings out of your life and make a beeline for stuff that makes you feel something. There is no magical purpose or love or peace that'll fix everything, we're too human for a single cure that will end all the bad shit. But... If anything does make you feel a little bit more vivant, hold it for as long as it's willing to walk with you. And if the time comes that it ends - as all things eventually do, one way or the other - have the courage and kindness for your own sake to learn to let go.

Breathe... In... Out. That's the only requirement, and now, you are alive. Everything else is societally-constructed human bullshit. Just buzz around, little bee. It never feels like it'll start and it never feels like it'll end.

And as some (probably dead) person said once upon a time, when death finds you, may it find you alive.