The Life Impossible

by Matt Haig

It is such a ridiculous thing, isn’t it? The way we judge our bodies. The way, as we become increasingly invisible with age, we still clutch tight to that self-consciousness. The way we curse the thing that has kept us alive all this time.

Eating watermelon in the sun was such a wonderful feeling I wondered why I hadn’t spent more of my life doing it.

Our minds swell into each other like a million currents at sea. We merge, we converge. Everyone flows into everyone else without even realising.

We aren’t just a person, we aren’t just a gender, we aren’t just an age, we aren’t just a nationality, we aren’t even just a species. The walls between us are imaginary.

But to be alive is to be a life. To be life. We are life. The same ever-evolving life. We need each other. We are here for each other. The point of life is life. All life. We need to look after each other. And when it feels like we are truly, deeply alone, that is the moment when we most need to do something in order to remember how we connect.

It’s so strange that we don’t want spoilers in our stories but we seek them in our lives.

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