Since I turned 27, I’ve been rounding off my age to 30.
I’ll get there anyway, I say…unless, of course, I expire suddenly.
I do not shy away from talking about death, least of all my own. Lately, I’ve been catching myself thinking about it more and more.
The more the thought of death dwells inside my head, the more appealing it becomes. Dying.
It’s supposed to be my mid-life, based on life expectancy projections, but I really feel like I’m almost wrapping up.
You know, just gathering a few more things here and there, making the last handful of memories, learning some of the final important lessons I’ll need before I am finally ready to go.
I wonder how it will happen… what will it feel like when I close my eyes for the last time in this mortal body?
What will it feel like when I open my eyes to my new existence? Will I even get to feel it? Will I still continue to exist?
To my mind, these are not sad thoughts. Leaving this life is not a sorrowful fate.
Being left alone in this life by the people you love, is a whole different matter.
I’d rather leave than be departed from.