feels much better

[subsur]

in my short life experience, i've witnessed a lot of death. much more that an average person ever needs. ironically, i was afraid of death since kindergarten. i could easily induce crying simply by thinking about death and impossibility of live after one's death. i could not believe in the finite life span. it was unfair for the world to go on functioning without one's life. it was some kind of a mysterious state - trying to imagine the world without myself in it. everything related to death gave me creeps. the word "morgue" inspired a great fear. despite my envy to my frinds who sneaked to see autopsy through cracked windows in the neighborhood's hospitals, i was mortified to go there with them. as a kid, i lived in a house build in early 30-s to accommodate KGB people who worked across the street. a lot of them were in their 70-s when i grew up. a lot of them were communist party's members. once they died, their bodies were brought to the middle of the yard and tenants paid their last respect. along with bodies (just around the corner) there were mattrasses drying. sometime, when the person had some connections with the military, a truck full of young privates with AK-47 was waiting nearby. i loved spending time with soldiers touching machine guns. however, once the infamous mourning music started, i tried to hide somewhere to avoid watching the scene. but it was impossible thanks to peer pressure. on some occasions i was forced to go to funerals. if using the language of colors, i thought that death should be an explosion of a purple ink among rotten exotic fruits. something disturbing and violent and cruel. something like Brakhage films with just cold colors and needles. in my aolescence, i worked in a recovery room in a hospital which specialized in patents with all sorts of tumors. as a result, some patients never returned home. death in the hospital was not as i imagined. death , at least in my experience was very pale and cowardly. very much like an early morning after a blizzard - quiet, cold, and white. it took patients while they were unconscious. they were too weak to struggle. the first experience with real death came when my grandparents moved in. their death was violent. slow, agonizing, with my mom screaming. still vivid in my memory.
when showing my girlfriend the beautiful New England foliage, she noticed that leaves are dying. with awe we watch the death. i never thought of it. for the first time i've realized that i adore death. last week, driving to boston from hartford, i was absorbed into colorful palette of trees and bushes and fallen leaves. remarkable scene. an inconsiderate asshole cut me on the highway even though here was no one behind me. at that moment, it seemed outrageous and i did something that i've never done before. i flipped him and i felt extremaly good after that.