sometimes, I’ll concentrate for a minute, and picture the world a hundred years from now, without friends or family that I know. everyone is dead.
strange feeling, it is. it’s like i can feel all the sadness I can possibly withhold, for a split second, and yet not feel any sadness at all.
Lately, I can’t stop thinking about my future. How many more days do I have left? Will the day that I die be anything interesting? When I wake up will it be a normal day? Will it be a long time from now? Will it be tomorrow?
Will I have completed most of my goals by then? How many regrets will I have on opportunities that I’ve passed up on?
How many people would legitimately mourn my death? Maybe people that I hold close, or maybe people that I haven’t that wished that we had shared bigger parts of our lives together, and then they can carry on that regret of passed up opportunities.
I was laying in bed this morning, in that half-awake-like & still sortofdreamingstate, and these were the questions floating by.
Death is such an intriguing thing to wonder about. The unknown. Our most valuable keepsake - an intangible thing, the consciousness that keeps us bound to our body - our lives, being ripped away. Near without warning.
This is beautiful.
You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of…