Transcending.

I still remember grocery shopping for 'grown up' food that day. I knew that my cupboards of Top Ramen and beer were not enough to serve my parents, who had never called me up just to come over for supper before. Nothing really struck me as unusual. It was a beautiful day, we had been living in our huge apartment for a few months now and it was about that time to show that we were grown up and successful enough to serve others. 

But I knew just upon the initial entering into the apartment building, that my littlest brother wasn't with you, but in the car. My parents, you stood, stoic in the doorway, forcibly presenting me with smiles that didn't fit your faces. You seated yourselves. 

I don't remember the words you used. I don't remember  how it was presented to me. But I remember I couldn't breathe. There was a heaviness to my heart I had felt before, but there weren't any neurons firing to put any logic or meaning to it. There was just a really thick, wet, and static feeling in the air that filled my lungs. 

Kevin couldn't do anything at that point, but shake his head and listen as I screamed, collapsing to the floor. 
It suddenly wasn't such a beautiful day any more. It's almost like the sun set instantaneously. 

You left. 
I wept. 

That was the first time I experienced my jaw locking up on me. I would later have more frequent and irritating times with this, discovering that it was a condition called TMJ and mine acted up with the more stress I endured. 

That was also the moment that I remembered moments of my childhood, where I would feel things that I couldn't explain. I felt the air, the energy, the sun, earth, the clouds, the pain; I remember crying for seemingly no reason, because out of nowhere I felt sad and old; I felt broken and tired, the kind of exhaustion my childhood body never felt before. It usually came at night, while I was slipping into slumber. 

As I've grown older, the feeling I experienced that day, that same feeling I couldn't explain as a child, became more defined.  I learned I wasn't just feeling MY emotions, but the emotions and energies of those vulnerable enough to share them with me from somewhere else. 

I guess this is coming from a dark place of uncertainty, but, experiencing your last moments of life under water is also a dark place of uncertainty as well. 

"That there

That's not me

I go

Where I please

I walk through walls

I float down the Liffey

I'm not here

This isn't happening

I'm not here

I'm not here

In a little while

I'll be gone

The moment's already passed

Yeah it's gone

And I'm not here

This isn't happening

I'm not here

I'm not here"