Coming To Terms With Mortality

So I have finally come to terms with the fact that I am clinically fucked and about to drop dead. Now if I do it all right I might live ten or so more years. There is the other option of just pigging out of crap food, drinking whiskey getting fatter and dropping dead of a heart attack in the next year or so. This to most will be an obvious choice to extend ones life. But I tell you I am having a hard time with the idea of fading out over the next decade and the path of wanted self destruction is looking good right now.

Lets weigh the options shall we? Ten or so years of eating twigs and bark and not that much of them. Ten or so years of not getting drunk and not drinking coffee to the point my chest is thumping. Ten or so years of time to sit on my disabled ass and watch movies and talk to people on Facebook.

The other option seems to have way more appeal to it for me. Pig out and get it the fuck over with and drop the fuck dead. Sure people will miss me and be sad that I am gone. But this way at least they won't be wondering for a decade "is Dave dead" every time I am late to start posting on Facebook.

So who knows. I mean yes, I do want to live forever - but I realise we all drop dead. So maybe it's time to go to the Liquor Store and order an 8 topping large pizza. Woot.

Actually don't know how I want to play this one. That is the worst part. I DO want to live a while longer and I also want it to just be over with. Option 3 of just making it all STOP is not really my style, never has been. I'm not a quitter after all. So the reality will more than likely be in the middle where I freak out and eat 4 days worth of food in 30 minutes while sucking back some whiskey (well ok a lot of it).

All I know is it's going to take 6 people to carry my giant ass out the door when I drop dead. That is the only certain part of this. Who they fuck knows, I might live to be 70 or something stupid like that.

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