Under the heat of the summer, the laziness of my roof, and with the fire that I love so much, I found a new obsession with a hopefulness for my death. I hiked today and I only thought minimally of a hopefulness for my death. I thought about it while we were at the dam, where the water fell a hundred feet from the reservoir and onto the bottom. I thought about how it would feel for my falling body to crash into the water. And then I gave it details by watching the loose drops of water trickle down but I found myself hopeful for something else. Something more. I felt sad. And I felt happy. And then I thought about a Bon Iver song because I get dramatic sometimes and everything was worth something again. Just that suddenly.
On our way back, I even thought about a tomorrow without death. There was something about that hike. It was the lazy river that we followed and the aqueducts that we walked on. It was the calmness of the rocky drive to Lyons Reservoir. It was the sight of the vastness of the reservoir and how it looked like a painting. It was walking down to the bridge where we looked down at the giant, gaping hole of water. It was there that I felt small. Insignificant. Like a spec. Like I needed to see this before I made my mind up about my life. It was the roughness of the boulders and their urge for us to keep climbing. It was the Four Day story and my drenched shoes. It was this place telling me that I don't have to want to die all the time.
I don't want to leave here. I just don't want to lose this.
