I always think about what happens at the end of my life.
The last person that I meet.
The last friend I make.
The last word that I say.
I think about these things because I think it’s important to consider what I’m doing then still matters.
I hope by then I have something worth listening to. Something important enough, something valuable enough to pass on.
It’s funny, I always imagine myself an old man, but that is an end that is not promised. Death has found many in their youth. Who am I to say that I will not be counted among those taken early on?