We all die eventually.
That’s the big joke about life.
There is but one guarantee.
The wise man is aware of this, and uses it as a sound argument for taking full advantage of this temporary disposition.
Those of us less sound spend our time wondering how…
Not if, that’s a given. Not when, that would ruin the surprise.
I spend (far too much) time thinking about this.
I’d like to think my obituary will speak of a final heroic act revolving around the rescue of puppies and orphans from a fiery death, but…
I know better.
It’s going to be something stupid.
Like a Q-Tip.
How many people ignore warnings and do as they choose, only to meet an untimely fate that will one day be fodder for urban legend?
People have literally died as a result of a cotton swab.
Something random and odd like this, in all likelihood, will beat every bad habit I have.
Today, I decided. I’m not going out like that.
I used my finger instead.
My fingernail cut the inside of my ear.
It just goes to show, you have little control over the chaos of the world around us.
It proves that it doesn’t matter how I go out. Nor how I came in.
It only matters what I’m doing while I’m here.