i'm taking this psychology class, it's a basic 101. on the second day of class my professor described how if people thought about their own mortality on a constant basis it would most likely result in depression. people asking themselves "why bother getting up today? i'm going to eventually die anyway"
it made me realize i'm in a whole other boat, even if it's sinking at the same exact rate. one where i tend to believe the life granted to me is such a rarity even with death being certain. life is the greatest gift that could possibly be bestowed upon a soul. how am i here in this body, controlling what i do? i look at myself sometimes and i just say to myself "holy shit, i'm really here". it's not my impending death that scares me, it's the likelihood of life continuing on. i have the next 80 years to fill up and i get overwhelmed just thinking about it. it becomes an ongoing preoccupation where i can't decide what i want to do. it stifles me the same way it would the pessimistic pansy who tortures himself as he repeatedly harps on the unavoidable sorrows of death.
i have no idea what i'm going to do. ever. not in a million years.
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