pathfall

[pathfall]

two | seven

I'm not old, except maybe in a relative sense, but I can tell you I genuinely never expected to live past the age of twenty-seven.

Not that it was a case of me intentionally offing myself, but I was maybe fourteen when I saw that specific post. Maybe you've seen it, maybe it's still making the rounds whenever someone -

I saw it when Amy Winehouse died at twenty seven and I'm not completely sure that it was something that particularly affected me, as I wasn't a big fan or anything but I heard "Valerie" for the first time at the highschool rock show, I fell in love with that song, moreso at that instance, because of cadence or tempo it was played at, honestly, just the performance I felt sent an electric current through the audience. Maybe it was just me but -

The post basically shows you a list of famous people, "legends" as the post would have it, who all died at around twenty-seven. Ah sorry, I just looked it up and its more than just a post, Rather than a post it's maybe more known to you as the twenty-seven club. I don't know why that post stirred something in me, I definitely wasn't old enough to know about bias or statistical significance... or maybe I was but simply had not been taught it at whatever level of maths I was taking and I think I pretty easily suspend disbelief, in general, all I know is that I also wanted to die at twenty seven.

It's a relatively common thing to mix causation and correlation and very human to seek patterns, though in this case you basically have to ignore almost every other person that was famous that died earlier or later because the data is so heavily in favor of "no... there's no 'curse' or phenomenon that takes the most talented or impactful of us before our time". Fair enough. But I didn't know that then, all I knew in my very bones was that I was talented and would be famous and impactful and loved and cherished and eventually, I hoped (for some morbid and maybe maudlin reason) that I would also be taken to wherever comes next at twenty seven.

the truth is, as you can probably guess... none of that came true.

I've always been obsessed with fame, and especially interested in my own; to fill some sort of hole that almost every person has in the place of self-love or self-respect. I want you to know I don't say this out of any self-pity I'm particularly aware but as an uncritical statement of my subjective feelings; I've always wanted to be loved by millions because I could never love myself. I wanted people to be proud of me because I could never be proud of myself - anything remotely resembling it repackaged into enough layers of irony or pseudo-irony that if I was able to transfer it to you, you would recognize it as shame. Because I was supposed to be better? Better than what AND WHO AND WHEN AND HOW GOD I'M SO FUCKING TIRED OF CHASING SOMETHING OR SOMEONE THAT DOESN'T EXIST. I wanted to be famous, because I thought that being famous meant being perfect in the eyes of enough people that I didn't have to look into my own eyes in the mirror to try to find anything resembling self-worth. All of this background :) to say that I'm twenty-seven, not famous, no major world impact and not dead (yet, for that last one). And I'm happy. Or at least I'm fine with that. I don't care if I become famous or become a "legend" whether that's while I'm alive or - a teacher asked me when I was ten whether I'd rather be like Van Gough or Britney Spears in terms of fame. Meaning, respectively, would I rather be famous after I died or while I was alive --

(I'm guessing "Toxic" wasn't as influential for people at her age - and we have to remember that this was early internet: we still felt that, I think at least, old model of popular fame being transient rather than something I'll eventually run into again on my TikTok "For You" page in a every couple of years: "Remember this?", in white text printed onto a black background as I watch Britney and her snake hang out and be sexy -- in my heart of hearts I knew 1 billion percent I'd rather be famous while I was alive, to be able to capitalize on it - clout, money, everything. What the fuck is the point of having it after you die? But I knew the right answer was Van Gough because, you know... "impact on art", "timelessness", "classic". The idea that you live on until the last time your name is spoken is one I've clinged onto when I've had sudden existential crises or were afraid of death and so its not hard to see why Van Gogh is an arguable answer but c'mon...

You respect Wozniak and Tesla so much once you dive deep into their stories, but at the end of the day... you want to live like Jobs or Edison. That's the goal.

Despite no longer particularly wanting to be famous, I would like to have any one of their impacts on the world, it's just that I'd also rather... benefit from it as much as possible -

dead. I do look over some parts of my life with regret, I do think I've only really started learning and understanding diligence, hard work, taking the initiative, pushing opportunities as far as they can take me, at the end of the day I don't particularly mind if I'm never particularly someone worth remembering outside of my immediate social circles.

billions of people have lived in this world. billions of first kisses have been shared, nights out spent roaring with laughter amongst friends, hugs holding both parents tight, proud art, inventions, community programs, businesses and more. all but a miniscule percent are remembered today. an even smaller amount en masse. of the billions of people, a scant few are remembered today.

but those billions did live. those events happened. at one moment time, in a specific place, there was absolute sheer radiant joy felt between two specific people laying side-by-side, telling each other "I love you" for the first time. and the fact that neither of them were famous, that neither of them would be remembered after their grandchildren passed didn't matter.

even without the memory of it being held, in that one frozen moment in time, it happened. in the span of their lifetime, they were. even after the last time your story is told, the last time your name is said. even after the last human draws their last breath, the last sentient species loses their sentience, the sun explodes, the earth is obliterated and whatever comes next comes...

you were. i was. and at some frozen moment in time, we were.