The Price of Life

I once was in the midst of talking with some friends about life experience. I've never been one to keep a secret about myself for internal purposes because I've always believed that if there's something I've been through in my life, someone else has probably already gone for it. Anything that I've ever kept to myself is for the benefit of others or perhaps a protection of myself from others... I can't be sure. But at the end of our conversation, when I asked them why they weren't open with the things that have shaped them throughout their lives, they responded You just wouldn't understand the kind of things we've been through; you haven't been through that kind of stuff. Six months later, I dated someone who said something to the same effect: You don't understand why someone would keep something back because you've never been through real tragedy. Then at the end of my college career, my dear friend Taylor told me, As much as I like you, I don't feel like any of us ever got to know who the real Justin Kirkland was. I thought that the statement was hilarious because for such a long time, I had the philosophy to tell everyone everything, but then it hit me. Much like the profession that I would like to go into, I've learned to tell people things about me that are informative enough. All of these stories and embarrassing moments, all of these anecdotes and jokes at my own expense are provided so that it may seem as if I've said enough. And I mean, who can blame a person for doing that when their life has been chocked up to "simple and tragedy-less" by a group of people that he once cherished. I have become a person that works to appease the masses with surface level stories in hopes that it will be enough, and that's heartbreaking because it implies that my life isn't good enough to share with anyone. It implies that there is a price on life.
Unlike most of my posts, this particular entry will not focus on the past. The past has already happened, and there's not a lot we can do to change it. If all goes as planned, my hope is that this post will not even focus so much on me, as it will on you. What is the price that you have assigned to your own life, and if it can be rounded to a particular number, then hopefully by the end of this I will have convinced you to reconsider that. Moving to a place like Washington D.C. can sincerely shake the person you are to your very core. From the first week I moved up here, plenty of people commented on my accent with some even summing me up to be a hillbilly, redneck, etc. I'm sure that you've already picked up on that though because so many of my posts have centered on something of that nature. It wasn't until recently that I became aware that I had allowed myself to not only accept that role, but fulfill it. Another couple dollars off my own life balance. Then, after weeks of applying to jobs, I stopped sending in applications. I had reserved myself to the fact that maybe I wasn't good enough to get hired. And suddenly, the cents started to roll off the life balance. I haven't talked to anyone about it... not because I was strong enough to handle it on my own, but more because I believed that no one cared enough to hear about it.
So one day, I got lost in Southwest DC. I was meeting a friend for dinner and the plans got cancelled and I had no idea what to do with myself. I still hadn't really met anyone, so I wandered around for awhile, and before I realized it... I was crying. Twenty-two years old and I was walking down the street crying without any attempt to hide it. I was hoping that someone would stop me and ask what was wrong. I thought Surely, someone will. I'm sure that someone in Knoxville would, so surely someone in DC will as well. But they didn't. No one cared enough to stop and ask what was going on because they... well... they just didn't care. Not like we do. Not like I do about you.
And if you're reading this, then that you is directed at you. You take the time out of your day to open up the ramblings of some guy that you've known since middle school or to see if you got mentioned in that story in college that you're sure he hadn't forgotten. Maybe someone forwarded you the link or you're one of those very dedicated Russian fans (seriously, you all are my favorites). Maybe you just friended me on Facebook and this is the first time you're reading, but if you are, then yes: you are the one that I care about.
And I don't care what you've been through or what kind of hell or heaven you've walked out of to get here because your life resonates in my heart in the way that I would like to believe that we all should feel in a perfect world. And this doesn't come from that all appeasing place because if I wanted you to like me, I'd just continue writing another post about how I carry a lead pipe in my car or how I just recently went out with someone who has an affinity for licking other people's armpits. However, this is my extension to you to say that I care about your life in the same way that I would like people to care about mine. You have purpose and worth, and you should believe that. The reason it lays so heavily on my heart is that today at lunch, the one person who has come to mean the most to me in DC said, We're not at the place that we're going to talk about the heavy and deep stuff, and I immediately shut down. Whether it was intended or not, it was another person who was telling me that my life was insignificant in the grand scheme of life experience. It was another person who walked the earth with a feeling of livelihood entitlement, or at least, that's the way I saw it. And in the end, that's probably not what was meant at all; if anything, it's a reflection of who I have let myself become: a person who has forced himself to see the bad in people and to find any reason possible to distrust a friend. But in that moment, none of that mattered because I was determined to run.
So all that I wanted to do was shut down and walk away. I imagined that I would provide a couple of jokes, something topical or self-deprecating and then begin to pull away. Distance, at one point, was the safest thing that I could do in this situation because no matter what has ever been said to me, I promised myself a long time ago that I would never tell another human that their experience didn't matter to me. I would never imply that there was something about my life that trumped the pain they had been through because that's the same kind of mentality that has caused so much pain an heartache in the world. But as I began my plan to distance myself from another person, I thought about the ramifications of distance. I was doing nothing but hurting myself; when we run from other people--when we distance ourselves in protection-- it's the perfect opportunity to say that someone had let us down. We run as fast as we can in the opposite direction and then blame the other person for not chasing after us. And for people like me, we take that situation and detract worth from our lives. If someone wasn't determined enough to run after me as I desperately tried to escape them, then it must mean that I was never worth running after in the first place.
Adulthood was supposed to be a time when I worked for myself with little to no regard about the people around me. I was supposed to be able to do this life on my own without the influence of another person, and interestingly enough, I've never wanted a personal connection more in my life. So, as I embark on a journey in a city where making eye contact is the equivalent of stabbing someone in the middle of the subway/metro, I want to work toward a seemingly impossible goal. I want to live this part of my life in such a way that no one that I ever truly cared about, whether they run or not, can say that they didn't know who the real Justin Kirkland is. I want to make sure that I never reflect on my life in comparison to how important it is in comparison to anything or anyone else. And I hope, when you approach someone who seems like they might have a bit of love available to you, do not run. Do your best to never make them feel insignificant or worthless. Do everything you can to open up your heart to them because it is only when two hearts are open to receiving love that love can be given or taken. And I beg of you, most of all, when you feel that no one understands you or loves you... even if you've been through something that no one else in the world could even begin to understand... do not ever put a price on life.