A day will come, probably sooner rather than later, when I will be very, very, dead. This will probably happen because I did something careless and stupid. I will, at the time I do what will do me in, probably feel I’m being as careful and thoughtful as I need to be in that moment, but my resultant death will be evidence that I made a wrong choice. Somewhere. I’m human. That’s what we do.
When that day comes, please understand this: I was never able to afford to live my life to my expectations or to my satisfaction cuz I never had those kind of resources, but I like to think I did as well as I could do with what I got. I didn’t have a lot, but I didn’t have nothing either, and I like to at least imagine I’ve been thankful for what I got. I used to be even more careless and thoughtless and arrogant than I currently am. That got me in a little trouble now and again, and I look back now on my choices both good and bad, and am pleasantly surprised to find I have somehow managed not to accidentally die before now. Goodness knows I’ve made my share of enemies. I probably have enemies I don’t even know about. That’s how careless and thoughtless and arrogant I have been. No use crying over spilled milk. What’s done is done. Ashes to ashes. Objects in the mirror. Que sera. Et cetera.
Today, I weigh the pros and cons, and have gotten to a point in my life where less is more. I don’t travel. There is nothing in any other city in the world I want to do that I couldn’t also do here if i put my mind to it. Being adventurous is expensive and dangerous. I usually just work, sleep, and dork on the computer for my play. It’s not much of a life I have carved out for myself, but I find that it suits me. It’s safe. For the most part it keeps me sane and out of trouble.
I could argue that today I live a careful, thoughtful and humble life. I would be wrong, but I might add that it’s more careful and thoughtful and humble than it used to be. As simple and careful and thoughtful as i try to be, I am still careless and thoughtless and arrogant. I have made mistakes and I will make countless more. I have probably made mistakes I still don’t even know are or were mistakes. Perhaps one of those many mistakes will be what does me in.
I observe other people live and die, and I sometimes criticize their choices. As if I could do any better. As if. I often have a laugh at the expense of others. It’s always funny when it happens to someone else. It’s never funny when it happens to you.
My time is coming. I am under no illusion that I will live forever, or that I will be remembered when I am gone. I got less sunsets ahead of me than I got behind me. I don’t know which mistake I make will do me in. I don’t know which choice not to take. If I did, I like to imagine I could prevent it. However, I ain’t that smart. I ain’t that careful. Maybe it won’t be directly my fault. Maybe it will. Maybe someone else will be at fault for my death, but I will have made choices that led me to being at the wrong place at the wrong time.
Make no mistake; my time is coming. The reason why I bring this up is not to mourn my life before it’s over, or to be overly melodramatic as I am also want to do. I wish I could find some better way to coddle these words so that they are less offensive to the ears of those who have yet to embrace this concept, while also being the equivalent of a hug and a kiss and an elbow in the ribs and a beer and a toast and a thousand other things to those of you who, like me, have been pleasantly surprised to wake up one day and discover that yes. You get to live one more day. The mistakes you made up until now didn’t do you in. Try to enjoy it.
My time is coming. Make no mistake. While that sinks in, please understand this: so is yours.
Although there have been anecdotal reports of people who have managed to cheat death, legends and myths. Leaders and humanoid shaped symbols of holy sects, the vast majority of people (humans, hominids, high functioning primates) who have lived on this planet in the past several (hundred) thousand years are currently very, very, dead. Not a single one of them have managed to live forever. Except for whatever savior you personally believe in. Of course. Sure. The one exception to a very certain rule. Make. No. Mistake.
While science is working on it, and some religions claim to have conquered it by sheer force of will, our time is coming. All we can do in the meantime is enjoy what we have while we have it. I only wish every single living breathing human alive today could also embrace this one simple request from a small boy who is no longer with us. A child who, so far as I know, did nothing stupid to cause his own death. He just stood there enjoying a beautiful day while some very angry, very ugly young men who made many wrong choices committed a heinous act that took three lives that day, and irrevocably changed the lives of untold numbers more, forever.
Please stop hurting each other. Please. We only get this one shooting star shot across the night sky. Why do so many of us insist on messing it up? Don’t let his life, and the lives of the billions who have lived and died before him, before me, before you, don’t let their shots across the night sky be in vain.
Please stop hurting each other. Peace.