life, death, and grand uncertainty

by Nicole Antoinette

October 9, 2009

I’ve been thinking a lot about my life lately, about the place where
small details blur into big picture and wondering what, in the end, I most want to
be remembered for.

I bring this up in conversation one night, shyly, and tell him that I want to be
known as someone who makes other people’s lives better.

He tells me that I already am that person. I want desperately to believe him.

I share that I’m unsure of whether or not I’m making the right decisions.

“About what?” he asks.

“About everything.”

He nods. I’m quiet.

What I don’t say in that moment, what I want to say, is that I’m not proud of
myself. That it feels like everything around me is just a serious of flawed
situations, strung haphazardly together with barbed wire and masking tape. I want to
say that it feels very much like I’m completely losing my shit.

He breaks the silence, tells me that I’m the type of person whose energy lights
other people up. He emphasizes my name when he says it, “Nicole, Nicole.” I hope he
doesn’t just do this because I’m crying.

I take deep breaths. I confess that all I really want is to connect with people, but
that for some reason, I’ve spent the past two years carefully constructing a life of
profound loneliness.

We talk about my friend, the one who recently committed suicide, and I ask, “Is it
possible that we, all of us, don’t really know each other at all?”

Nicole Antoinette
writes here.