I picked up Death: The High Cost of Living by Neil Gaiman tonight for the first time in years. Neil Gaiman has had a great deal of influence on how I view the world, the gods, magic…well, generally everything. I had forgotten that Tori Amos wrote the introduction and tonight it struck a chord:
Instead, I dyed my hair and she [Death] visited me and I started to accept the mess I’m in. I know that mess spelled backwards is ssem and I felt much better armed with that information. Over the last few hours I’ve allowed myself to feel defeated, and just like she said if you allow yourself to feel the way you really feel, maybe you won’t be afraid of that feeling anymore.
When you’re on your knees you’re closer to the ground. things seem nearer somehow.
If all I can say is I’m not in this swamp, I’m not in this swamp then there is not a rope in front of me and there is not an alligator behind me and there is not a girl sitting at the edge eating a hot dog and if I believe that, then dying would be the only answer because then Death couldn’t come and say Peachy to me anymore and after all she has a brother who believes in hope.