I was in bed, mind

I was in bed, mind wandering on my way to sleep, when I realized that I’ll be 37 in a few days. I found myself choking back tears. I’ve never before been afraid to get older–in fact I’ve been pretty oblivious to the aging process, but over the last year I’ve become aware of my mortality. Aware to the point that I’ve been readying funeral arrangements and other details so my passing won’t be a burden on those left behind. The problem: I don’t want to die. There is no comforting afterlife dwelling in my psyche; it isn’t part of my mythology. A further problem: I’m not sharing this life as fully as I want to. I want more people in my life. Friends are the mirrors that continue to carry our reflection after we’re gone.

I shall now proceed to hug a cat and cry myself to sleep.

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