My Own Mortality

i'm having an existential crisis
someone help me. somebody help me.
it's bad. really bad. worse than usual.
i hate it when this happens.
i hate it when my brain does this.

i am one human being among billions,
a single entity and my mortality is absolute.
just like the thousands dying in africa every day
i will someday be no more than a statistic.
no more than a number on a page, 
a name on a grave. 

as i speak right now, there's a whole new generation being born.
kids learning to form words,
kids who will grow up with the world at their fingertips,
with ipads in their hands.
there's kids becoming freshmen and learning to be themselves,
learning to explore and become something new.
and likewise, there's seniors
starting to step into the new chapter of their lives,
learning to step up to the plate.
someday i'll be a senior applying to colleges
and then i'll be getting a job
and all of a sudden it feels like i'm as old as the romans.

the redwood oak trees will live longer than me.
i'll barely be a blink in their lifespan-
just a single walking through the footsteps of thousands before me.
a ghost among the paths. 
i am not the first to walk these steps
and i will not be the last. 

my path diverges from all those i have known
and reconnects with others.
my first friend ever is now friends with a girl i met in fourth grade.
they met in high school and now appear on instagram together.
my best friend from eighth grade is taking a class on government
and she has friends i'll never know the names of.
it's been almost a year since i saw Emma. 
and only slightly less since i've texted her
even though i promised her forever.

i don't know why i said that.
there's no such thing as forever.
everyone dies and no one knows what happens after.
and i don't want to vanish into obscurity.
i don't want to be forgotten,
i don't want to be spoken about in hushed voices
or a picture on a wall.
someone once told me
that the day you die
is the last day someone speaks your name.
someday, my name will be faded in memory
and i will just be another nameless soul.

i don't want to conceptualize my own mortality
but i don't seem to have a choice.
i want to believe in god.
i want to believe in a higher power.
but i can't seem to find the faith.
i have hope, but hope is not faith, 
and hope is far harder to conjure 
when you are falling falling falling.  

i still haven't grieved for my dog.
we put him down four months ago.
he died and i still haven't processed it.
when i think of him
my eyes get all glassy and sad
and my chest hurts, like sharp teeth, like sharp teeth.

someday, i'm gonna be 83 years old
telling stories to my grandchildren.
someday, the early 21st century will be mentioned in history books
and students will learn about how the world was falling apart
and we'll be history, but not good history-
more like ww2 history.
someday someday someone
will look at a list of their ancestors and point out my name.
someday someday 
i will be nothing more
than a part of an old world. 

my puppy will die before i am fifty years old.
i will forget the names of my primary school friends.
the names of my favorite songs will fade
until i cannot recall a single one.