my (first) deathnote

sidenote: this post and the next one or two i write (i think) are both going to be about death. 

i’m fairly obsessed with the american anti-obsession with death. the lengths american society goes to to avoid thinking about, dealing with, seeing in real ways, and coping with the fact that we’re all going to die one day are amazing. i think a large portion of the issues american society faces flow from this aversion. i could go on and on about this, but that’s not the point.

the point today is to start dealing with it myself. and i’ll start with my own death (because i almost always think the place to start in in oneself). i think this may become an annual tradition. who knows. here goes:

it’s nearing the end of 2016 and i’m thinking about my death.

my first thought: i am resigned to the reality that one way or another, the oppressive systems we live in will probably kill me. if it’s not a bullet or other direct assault from a human it may be the climate and resulting catastrophe or it may be cancer from the toxic environments/lifestyles we’ve created for ourselves.

so be it.

or maybe I’ll die of old age and my body ceasing to function in a way that keeps my soul in it. that’s fine, too. it feels less likely, but hey, nothing’s impossible. and maybe i’ll look back at this when i’m 90 and think “what a ridiculous thing i wrote.”

either way, this note about my death is actually about how i want to live (knowing that i will die):

whether i die later today, tomorrow, or in some years, i hope i’m able to genuinely live every day like it’s my last and also like i’ll live till i’m old.

ps - also, i didn’t commit suicide. if shit gets crazy, don’t let anyone tell you i killed myself. i will never kill myself. if you hear it on tape, i was tortured. i promise. i have already died once and that experience taught me that life is much too precious to willingly end.


writing: 18:36
spell-check, link-finding, & formatting: 9:11