Birthdays

As you get older, you start to think, it's not a celebration. No, I don't want to celebrate the age I'm turning, it's not the beginning of something it's not a start. No, what it reminds you of is endings, sad things, things that never come back like youth and time flown by. And no, you don't want to celebrate your birth day. Because all it reminds you of is of time, and therefore, the long hard march towards your death. What I would really like to hold is a funeral for my age that I'm leaving behind on the day before my birthday. That seems more appropriate overall.

We Die Tomorrow

One day when I am on my deathbed, I will look back on this day and it will seem like yesterday. And this is the truth, the truth that we can already see, about our childhood memories, our memories of youth. All those years in between, they are an illusion, the idea that we can count them, or the hours or minutes in them, all our planning it is all a lie.

The truth is when we are old, on our deathbed, on the day that we die, this will be yesterday, and so, therefore, that day is tomorrow, we will die tomorrow. If we live cautiously or irresponsibly, with fear or with wonder, if we lust for life or are afraid of it, it is, still tomorrow that we die, still yesterday that we lived.

And so, I want it all. I want life, I really do. And anyday that I live must be worthy to be my last day, because it is. Because there is no future to wait for or plan for. There is only today, and the day after yesterday.