My cousin is no longer among the living. He passed last night. It’s hard to believe he’s gone.
I still feel some anger about it, this sense of injustice. My ex-friend can run around wanting to die and being a selfish dick… But this kind, compassionate human being gets to lick the bucket.
It just is. Sometimes the bad guys get to live while the good guy dies. The universe doesn’t weigh morality. It takes as the map inside your body requests.
Mortality is a shitty thing to deal with. We all know we are mortal, even if we refuse to embrace it. We all know that we’re in line to lick the bucket at some point. Maybe not in the order we entered the line, but we are in line nonetheless.
Death honestly scares the fuck out of me. I don’t want to think about it. It scares me to cease to exist, that maybe nothing happens and I’ll have no idea it’s over.
Things hundreds of years in the future remind me that I’ll be long gone… And that upsets me. Granted, I don’t necessarily want to live so long that everything I love will be long dead. But still, I hate the idea that I may merely be work food and that my existence will be meaningless.
I’ve had that existential crisis since the age of eight. I remember crying about it one night because I was terrified of this idea that everything would be over one day and I’d have no way to pause it. I want to savor the moments, experience everything. But I can’t. It’s impossible to do absolutely everything in this world in the limited amount of time we are given.
Sometimes, the weight of that fact is enough to make me wonder if there’s a point. If I shouldn’t just end it now to save myself the trouble of agonizing over the inevitability. But I won’t. I don’t want to lose the opportunity for time that others don’t get. I want to cherish it.
That keeps me alive more than anything in this world. I am blessed to have time. I am blessed to be able to walk and talk and have the opportunity to have basic needs covered. There are people out there who aren’t so lucky.
It makes me mad because so many people bitch about what they don’t have. Material things. Meaningless things. Things that aren’t important when you’re on your death bed.
I want to shake those people and go, “Then work at them for fucks sake! Stop bitching and do!!”
That’s my new motto. Stop bitching and do.