and oh, how i wish i meant that at the depths of me. i think it would improve life a great deal to greet every day grateful for what is and what has been and say, if today is it then so be it let’s on with it.
so i think about death. more than i imagine is normal. i think death is what defines life, certainly it is the point at which a life is complete, finite, a solid finished product rather than the tracings of a path through space and time that i tend to define by saying ‘you just never fucking know’ in a solemn and thoughtful tone from time to time. i think being fragile and rather easily killed is probably a good thing, without this humans would be an insufferable lot. but while i would tend to object to immortality in a general sense, i also tend to think that it would be okay if just a few of us had it. even a few extra centuries would be nice, i have so much still to learn, and i’m at least halfway done with my years, probably further than that, and i’m feeling my limits these days, oh my. and of course what you’re hearing here is the illogical but vital voice that speaks in all living organisms, life forcing its will to continue into the future. it is a simple message, life is. this is a mindless, single-purpose, one-way force, life, its business is to resist death which is irresistable and i feel this conflict from the bones on inward, in the marrow where the blood is forged and further in the cells themselves and matter of fact i consist mostly of this conflict. well not mostly. but enough of me. and enough of that.
i think about dying well, and wonder if i’ll be able to manage that, i don’t exactly have a history of living well. i like to think i could accept an acute terminal diagnosis (as opposed to this long term, indefinite one), but chances are i’d freakout and waste whatever time i had left screeching about the fucking unfairness of it all.
i understand enough about being seriously ill, i know that acceptance is built into the process, it’s about being tired in a way that even the worst exhaustion in a healthy body doesn’t even come close, it’s about enough of the struggle and on with it already, and yet a determined whiner such as myself could no doubt manage to bemoan the loss of even the most unrecognizable remnant of existence … it’s just not a good hairday is it?
ideally of course i’d have the amazing strength and be calm and focused and make every minute count yeah right, because i’ve got such a stellar record of achievements in the areas of calmness and balance and focus and i’ve always been so emotionally fucking stable it’s just unreal isn’t … um, maybe this isn’t a good time to discuss this.
i think about death in every day i live, more than in passing; for perspective for one thing, and for another in hopes i can create the sort of acceptance i so admire in others and would treasure in myself, if the need ever arose. as a matter of fact i might not be thinking about death enough, not so much thinking about it as living my life intense and with purpose since it is such a finite amount of time until my journey turns into that inanimate object at the end. also it would be nice if that object wasn’t completely and utterly insignificant, but what a conceit that thought is, and with that i’ll end this.