Finally.

#19: What would your final words be?

That’s the question that I suppose we can’t really answer, because you can’t really plan ahead to the minute what the last thing to pop up in your head will be before you die, or if you will even say anything when you die. And will anyone be there to hear it? You can’t promise that. And even then, would you want someone to be there?

But that’s not the question at hand. My final words… You know, I think I do know what they would be, or at least an idea of what I would be trying to say. My words would most definitely be cocky, people might laugh, roll their eyes. I don’t care. my words. The gist of them:

Finally.

Because it’s all over, finally. We spend our lives living to die, kind of. We spend so much of our lives fighting the inevitable death, and hopefully we won’t have beat death by the time I expect to die. Because, oh gosh who said it: Everyone dies, but not everyone lives.

I’d say “Finally” to finishing this hard journey. Because let’s face it, living kind of sucks. Sure, it’s fun, there are fun times. And yes, it can be thrilling, you never know what’s going to happen the next day. It’s a mystery. And we don’t know why we live, what it really means to “live”, other than the basic breathe-eat-poop-sleep repeat concept.

I’d say “Finally” to this step, mainly because I do believe in the idea of reincarnation. You don’t really stop, in my opinion. You just get a break that you can’t recognize because before you know it you’re already 5 years into the next life. Disappointments are erased.

Finally done with worrying about failure.

Finally done with dealing with the jealousy of enemies or the boasts of friends.

Finally done with having to stare into the fridge for 10mins knowing that what’s in there isn’t going to change and no matter how long I look into it I will not feel any more satisfied with the random assortment of food that somewhat matches what I should be eating according to the pyramid of good eats.

Really, life is something else, but dying, that’s something I’ve gotta try. But we can never really experience it, which makes it all the more enticing. So what do I have, another 50 years probably, at least? Maybe more. Sounds like a long time, and I can’t wait for it to get here. So that way, when people gather around my bedside because they’ve nothing better to do or because they genuinely are shocked at the coming of my passing, I can look the crowd (or assemblage) in the eye and say, proudly, as a snarky old lady has a right to:

Damned thing took long enough to get here >_>