In My Brief Glimpse Of What Is

I Am Going To The Bad Place, As Is My Wont.

In My Brief Glimpse Of What Is To Come I Realize How Little I Care To Witness It. I Have Seen The Future And I'm Fairly Relieved To Say, It Looks Nothing Like Me.

I Am Neither Spontaneous Nor Ready For Anything.

You Can't Win All The Contests And Then Lose At One Contest And Say, 'why Am I Not Winning This Contest As Well?' It's Random. So Truthfully, Again, Do I Wish It Weren't Me? Absolutely. I Still Can't Make That Logistic Jump To Thinking There's A Reason Why It Shouldn't Be Me.

There Are Many Things In This World That Are An Outrage, To Be Sure, But Death At Our Current Life Expectancy Doesn’t Strike Me As One Of Them. Maybe I Sound Like Some Victorian Who Felt That Forty Years Ought To Be Enough For Any Man, But One Of The Marks Of A Life Well Lived Has To Be Reaching A State Of Finally Getting It, Of Not Needing More, And Of Being Able To Sign Off With Something Approaching Peace Of Mind.