We are brave — all of us. We rise every day and we go to sleep at night, knowing we’ll do it all again tomorrow. People we love die, and if they don’t, they hurt us. We hurt them. The person who is our whole world may only see us as a tiny part of theirs. We face rejection on a daily basis, and in a number of ways — we didn’t get the job, they didn’t text back, that ‘thanks but no thanks’ letter from the publisher, the parents who just won’t give us what we need. We’ll do almost anything to escape the terror of excruciating boredom. We are part of a societal structure that favours those with money, and what that money has enabled them to achieve. We see our healthcare system undermined and broken, authority figures using those shards as additional weapons. Children are abused, and abuse their peers. Surgery goes wrong. Cars fly off the road. The best person we know gets cancer. Life is like this — it is hard and long, then all of a sudden too short.
Living in this is the hardest thing we can do, and we deal with it in a number of ways. We meditate and we medicate, we drown ourselves in caffeine and Netflix and chocolate and shopping, and music so loud, we can’t hear what we really think of it all. Life is simultaneously the most pointless and purposeful situation we can possibly find ourselves in — it is only what we make it.
Everywhere we go, inanimate objects evoke animated responses. Be skinnier, younger, taller, smarter, richer, better. Every building on every corner is selling something to fill a hole we didn’t know we had. A hole we likely didn’t have, until we were told that we did. Or maybe that’s what humanity is; one big, gaping hole (Idea for advertising slogan: Life. What are you missing?). Rest assured though, fellow humans, because beauty still exists in this world, even when it isn’t obvious, even when the media doesn’t report it, even when it is forgotten. We find purpose in woodland walks, poetry, and home-cooked meals. Periods of difficulty are sometimes followed by periods of joy or relief. We may witness an awe-struck child, a deeply set moon, or the endearing trot of a dachshund. Inside these moments, we go a step beyond survival. Perhaps we thrive.
We get out of bed and make purpose where there is none. We talk and we share and we bask in the rare adrenaline of a friendship or romance that makes us feel seen — being understood is an electrifying chemistry. And in these moments, we breathe effortlessly. To live is to be brave, and we must not forget it. You, me, we, are brave. There’s no other way to describe it.
The Dark Alive 