The Threshold of Life

Living and existing are things that coexist but do not align. I’ve tasted life in it’s many forms, but never truly felt like I was living. Really living. 

When I was younger —pre 18– I went to concerts almost every week. I made new friends, I lost some old, but more importantly I felt alive for the first time in my life. When I was in that room, the air filled with the heavy breathes of people I’ll never know the names of, but all with the common purpose of seeing an artist we loved… I felt like the numbness swept itself away with every beat of the music. I felt like the crowd, throwing me up in the air and guiding me to the stage was my peak in life. 

When I fell in love for the first time the world altered on me. I felt passion for something, for someone. I remember the nights spent on crumpled sheets, and the static in the air that the record playing off my phonograph that filled in the cracks with. The moonlight being our only source of light, while we became tangled up in one another’s arms. I felt the infinity in a new romance, and new experiences. I felt what I thought life was. 

When I was in North Carolina at the beach and I tasted the salt in the warm waters, with my best friend by my side, I felt like the world could try and stop us but it’d never fulfill its destiny. Our white skin tanning under the summer sun, the scent of sunscreen being tossed around, the sand between chipped nail polished toes. In these moments I felt alive with her, and with the body of water we spent hours in. 

When I moved to Seattle, into my first apartment, I felt unstoppable. I felt like the world was finally mine to live for. I felt lost, but so in love with the city — my city. I worked on using a bus for the first time, since I couldn’t afford a car. I worked two jobs, from 7 AM to 11 PM. Opening one job, closing the other. Just to come home to a less than 800 square foot studio apartment. But it was mine, and I felt so proud. I felt like walking along the streets of the U District was a domain I made all on my own. Living there, in a city filled with people like me, I felt alone, but alive. 

When I fell in love the second time it was as if the world put itself on an axis of it’s own. Like time and existence put itself together to have us meet. From a strong, robust love, to a calm, soft love. Sweet nothings, and goodnight kisses. I felt love in a way I had never felt love before. He made me feel like all of my past lived there, and didn’t come along for the ride. He’d kiss away all my worries, and send a tingle along my spine. He made me feel alive.

When I lost my mom, my world sort of stopped. But one thing I’ve learned is that time doesn’t stop for anyone. My world may be crashing, but time will go on with or without me. I felt angry, I felt alone, I felt so so sad. I felt like my mom left before she was meant to. I felt more alive than ever, after losing someone in the sight of my own eyes. Beneath the skin of my own hands. I felt the loss of a beautiful existence in a pace with my own life continuing without her. 

All my life I’ve felt outside and beyond the threshold of life. I’ve felt like I’ve watched everyone around me live while I just existed. Yes, I’ve felt life before. I’ve felt it in the touch of another’s hand against my skin, the way our eyes would lock on one another’s, in the beat of a song ricocheting against the walls of a concert venue. I’ve felt it in kissing my favorite celebrities, in hugging people I look up to. I’ve felt it in my writing, and the way I feel for those I love, and have loved. Life has existed within me, whether my mind agrees with me or not. 

The threshold of life is but a concept. There is no one way to live, and there is no one way to feel alive. Keep that in mind next time you feel yourself wading in the waters of existence. Life is being lived beneath our fingertips, slipping through the cracks between our fingers, and when you look back, what do you see?