Last ten minutes

In ten minutes the bomb is gonna come. I will be knocked out of existence like a fly being struck in someones hand.

Some notes to take from my life: People don’t change. We are changed, but there is always weakness staring us in the face in the most challenging moments. And even when you overcome something one time there will probably be another challenge later that will show us how weak we are.

People do what they have to to remain in their comfort level.

Spiritual truths are part reality and part fantasy, and telling which is which is pretty much impossible.

People are so optimistic, no matter how people are knocked down people are always trying to get themselves back up. It’s almost heart breaking. When I think of how much suffering people have endured overall time and in all places, it is unbelievable that more people haven’t shut down.

That if you can’t cry at a sad movie or a sad event part of your heart is locked up somewhere. I rarely cry.

The earth is floating in outer space right now, majestically in outer space. It too continues moving, and maybe that is not always easy for it either.

In these last minutes I think of my ancestors, and want before I die to say a little prayer for those that have come before. And my ancestor, a ghost in the other worlds, will hear my prayers and they will pray for me, and I will matter to someone somewhere.

I take a drink of alcohal. Drugs the worlds numbing agents, along with so many others, many musics, movies, relationships, are simply drugs to make the days go by a little easier. And I embrace this drink, hearing my fathers chuckle in the back of my mind as he would say I will think of death when I die till then lest not let the drink run dry, and my scowl of reproach as he toasted his drink, a droplet spilling and falling out. And in space a droplet will continue to float forever. Likewise these memories are droplets in my soul. I want to rub them out sometimes because so many of them don’t make any sense any more. It has all become so ridiculous that I can’t stand it anymore. I laugh, swish the burning liquid and force myself to swallow it.

I guess that is the last thing I have learned. No matter how I have loved my family enjoyed them, was uplifted by them, in the end I am alone and they are alone. Even if I spent every waking second next to them. We are separate and yet so important to each other. Like a curse and a gift. A curse because people were never too fond of me, and I had wished that that hadn’t mattered. I tried hard to make it not matter. I wanted to lock it all out. And my heart is somewhere in a chest somewhere thousands of feet under in the ocean. Like the squid man in Pirates of the Caribean, Dead Man’s Chest. And I am not sure if I want to have to find it again, and go through all the pain that is bound to go with it or let it be, and find a party get another high while life is moving and I’m still alive.

Just then I hear a boom. And my life flashes over my eyes. And I see a young woman, scared and feeling so alone, pregnant with me in her. She is so scared and her mother is telling her, “You need to have an abortion, there is no way you are mentally well enough to take care of a child. And she says, “No mom, I think I want to keep her.”

And then there was nothing. A fly under a human hand. And then there was nothing.


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