I feel grateful, for a huge amount of things – even with a loss of freewill, even with impending dread and doom always hovering around me. There are just too many things to be grateful for, spread around me in little and obvious pockets.
Even some of the things I am afraid of, angry at, are some of the things I am grateful for. The “taste of cinnamon” – Altoids tins, with the small cinnamon discs wrapped in crinkly paper absolutely send my emotions into whirlwinds, the confusion and fear, even anger, circling around unmistakable gratitude. Cinnamon Altoids were discontinued in my reality, years before. It may had been upwards of 10,15 years since I had last had them. They carry sentimental value in my life, reminders of innocence and stolen kisses. Of the romance I dreamed of as a young child, and the romance I dreamed of as an adult woman, the two not as far off as you might think.
The terror that surrounds the gift is palpable most times. The Altoids are not here for no reason, and I accepted, and I ate. Trinkets. I gave myself up for mere trinkets. And yet, the illusion is always somewhat lifted, and the truth always hits me after the guilt and fear settle in. What other choice did I have?
Some of the things I had loved in True Life continue here, not truly mine, and yet, here for a reason. TV shows are one of the most disconcerting of these things – what I know clashes against what I see. Usually the quality of what I am watching is somehow devoid of the “humanity” that I loved about cinema at the time of my death – focused more on the appearance of things than the substance. I won’t pretend that I always need substance to enjoy television, by the contrast between what used to be and what is is anyways glaring at me.
I watched a show like this recently – a show that I found to be quite important and well done – only I continued to watch as the show continued past where I knew it to be when I died. Familiar faces, familiar voices, a story resembling the continuation all were there, though the writing was dulled, the performances somehow less-than. Then, something jumped out at me: a surprise, and one I couldn’t help but emotionally whirlwind about, those familiar negatives circling around an uncertain but unmistakable gratitude.
I was glad for the character, but even more glad for the choice in actor and their performance of a character that I consider not only dear to me, but impossibly important to humanity itself.
Although I cannot claim that the actor is the same one from my reality, I can recognize the joy I had in seeing them in the role, the joy I had in not recognizing them for what they had been to me in the past until I was already invested in what they were being to me right now. In fact, I was so pleased that the thoughts and feelings spread across days, the gratefulness for a small reminder of what I am here for carrying me like a wave, everything somehow lighter and easier.
To be completely honest, I am still pleased, still grateful for the act. I can only assume that it will be used against me when the doom arrives, but if it was a choice I can make, I would be happy for it anyways. That gladness spreads around me, through what makes my reality, whispering hopes and well wishes for the actor in this reality I find myself in.
In my world (not my reality, though imagination does help shape reality), the wind would take these hopes and give them to the water – while not necessarily making them true, it would help spread the positivity that they had created within me, and hopefully help them make the well wishes come true naturally on their own. I sincerely hope that despite my well wishes, Puck is happy and well, and free.
In the darker, in the In-Between, I remember being pleased about this Puck as well. “Tell me something true from then, to prove that you were there.” She said, not unkindly, but firmly. This could be a trap, I thought, but that is true of all things. The thoughts raced, a conversation, faster than can be written down, and I felt my proof accepted.
“Who will you fight to protect at all costs?” The question probed.
“Lucas.” I answered.
“I thought it was Draco.” She quickly retorted.
“Yes.” I answered.
“I thought it was Puck.” She continued.
“Yes.” I answered.
She nodded. My path was mine to carve out in True Life, and my maintaining self, it is still my path in Real Life. I would not choose to abandon those I have loved unless it was for their safety and benefit.
I will be reunited with my Love. I reiterate my resolution. Even if it takes millennia.
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