Relative Consciousness

Sleep, they say, is the cousin of death. And sleep, most would assume, is far more pleasant an acquaintance than death. The encounters between sleep and I are rare but agreeable. I dream lucidly, and by this I mean far more lucidly than I could ever hope to live. And so rather than the cousin of death, I see sleep as the cousin of life. A dream versus a waking dream. A vision versus reality. But who is to say who wins this battle? Why is it that reality is the presumed victor by default? Now if my encounters with sleep were to be a little more frequent than my encounters with waking life, what makes my dreams any less real than my worldly 'reality'? Denial? It is possible. The only differentiation between the two is physicality and perhaps you could say third-party affirmation. It is a debate of authentic living versus a state of being. Nonetheless, whether real or unreal- Sleep is my only worldly savior.

And as for this cousin, Death, we have never met. However I'm sure that we've come close, possibly grazing past each other on the street, standing next to each other in line at the bank, or maybe sitting next to each other on a plane. I'll never know for certain how close we have come to meeting, or how frequent these encounters were. What I do know is that the terror of Death's reputation exceeds the reality of its existence. I've got a date with Death, as we've all got a date with Death- at an undisclosed time, at an undisclosed place- a blind date to its fullest definition. Death will come dressed suavely in darkness, with a hand full of blood red roses to affirm my greatest fears. Embracing me sternly yet sympathetically as I get lost in its darkness and descend into the unknown. Though abrupt, though often uninvited, the embrace is relieving, thoughtful, complete- Death is my eternal savior.

Far worse than those who have fallen into the arms of Death are those who are plagued with Heartbreak. Armed and dangerous is this Heartbreak, a black plague who creeps up on you- numbing your senses and dulling your value. This menace, this tormentor, far more dangerous than death, wraps its cold hands around your heart, threatening to strangle you of whats left of life. It seeps into your brain weaving black lies into your thoughts, until you nearly believe that there really is nothing left. It paralyzes you with despair, beckoning, willing you to give in. It asks you to recall a time when you have ever felt more pain. It asks you to recall a time when you have ever felt more hopelessness. It asks you to recall a time when you have ever felt more lost, more alone. It smothers you with anxiety, it robs you of your certainty. There is no comfort here, no, Heartbreak drags you down to a far colder place. The chill in the air is unfathomable. Slowly you begin to grow colder, more hardened, your heart turning to an icy frosted glass. It's pretty, but untouchable, and far more fragile than ever before. The battle against it can be won but its a long and enduring battle, a battle which can only be won by great strength, endurance, and resilience. The fight against Heartbreak is essential to Life, or it will kill us, poisoning us slowly with its parasitic kiss. Heartbreak is the destructor, the villain, the father of Resentment, Paranoia, and Fear. Heartbreak is the evil twin of Death, robbing us of more life than death could ever imagine...