I recently learned via Facebook that a former co-worker of mine has been diagnosed with cancer and is currently undergoing chemotherapy. We’re the same age. We only had a few encounters during work. To me she always looked lethargic or sickly, or just apathetic. Even her tone of voice. But I figured that’s what she was like and not because she is sick. But I don’t know if she’s been sick for two years. I don’t know if she was in remission or anything like that. But she just always seemed sick, whether physically or emotionally.
With this and the recent death of beloved celebrity, Robin Williams, I have realized my own mortality. Any day I can be diagnosed with a terminal illness or suffer an aneurysm or get into a car accident or take my own life. We are all just inching closer to death with each breath we take and it can’t be stopped. I often wish for my life to end but I always imagine it as an instantaneous death rather than a slow and painful one. I have no control over which one it could be because I could never take my own life willingly. Well at least not now. Probably if I ever get to 70.
Death Cab For Cutie at Boston Calling Music Festival, MA, on May 24, 2014.
Title and Registration. I wish I had recorded Ben jumping into the crowd and right on top of me.
I can’t wait until I get a real full time job. Ideally I’d be earning enough money to move out, be able to go out for drinks a couple of times a week, buy drugs, and see Brand New across the US (or even globe) if I ever wanted to. I see myself in my own apartment (or sharing one) with a dog and I have a guitar, bass, and set of drums, each of which I have mastered. In my spare time, I perform covers of my favorite songs on each instrument. I can walk around naked and free. I am finally happy. But I am still dead inside.