I won’t grow up…

I am writing here to procrastinate working on my NaNoWriMo project.  In addition to this superfluous blog, I have also done a load of laundry, ate a bowl of fish protein with butter and salt, hung art on the walls of the apartment, carved imperfections from my face with a switchblade, and checked FaceBook incessantly.

Yesterday I was in the office counting money when I heard the door to the restaurant open across the dining room.  I tensed for a moment, suspicious that I may soon feel a knife slide between my ribs and bleed out on the office floor.  Surprisingly, that didn’t set me ill at ease.  In fact, I think I was kind of hoping for it.  And that sets me ill at ease.

I know it’s not healthy at my age to have no real fears.  Men are supposed to have fear; it’s a side-effect of wisdom.  Knowledge and experience teach Men that the world is a dangerous place, that any slight misstep may result in irreversible fates.  The naiveté of children is nothing more than blissful ignorance.  So why, at 34, do I still have no real fears?

I am not naive; I know full well what fates Death has in store for us.  But I don’t fear it.  Not at all.  I wouldn’t go so far as to say I welcome it, because I don’t want to die, but if I did, I wouldn’t be all that upset.

As I sat in the office, listening with tingling anticipation, holding a fistful of five dollar bills, a quote from Peter Pan came singing into my head.  “To die will be an awfully big adventure.”  That sentence played in my head, and it felt so right, so accurate, that I felt my left eye fill with tears that I didn’t let fall.

So to say I am fearless is not entirely true.  I am afraid of one thing: my fearlessness.

Don’t misunderstand me: I’m not going to go dancing with trains or trick-or-treating in March in the ghetto, but I just don’t have any fear of dying.  My life is amazing, and if I died tomorrow or even today, I would have nothing to lament.  I’ve had music, love, wine and laughter.  If I would measure success, I would use those as my inches, and find mine spanning the globe in feet upon feet.

I’m beginning to think… maybe… I think too much?