My Mortality

You know how when you sleep on your side sometimes and your ear rests right up against the pillow, you're able to hear your own heartbeat? I fucking hate it.

It's a steady beat that speeds up slightly when you inhale and slows down gradually as you breathe out. There's a consistency that you take for granted. But do you realize that while it continues to pump oxygen one second, it can easily stop the next? The sound of my heart beating is a constant reminder that I am mortal. I've always said that the only thing that I can't get more of is time, and there are so many things that I want to do. Chances are, I don't even know all of the things that I want to do yet. In other words, at some moment in time before some truth is revealed to me, I'm going to drop dead.

And yet, I abuse my body constantly. I drink and smoke too much. I'm awake at ungodly hours thinking the most mundane thoughts and writing the most cliche words. I'm not helping my race against time. But God damn it, it's during these times that I feel the most alive. It's as if we are cursed to think in dichotomies-- if it's not this, then it's that. If I'm killing myself slowly but I'm not dead yet... I must be alive. So nobody can kill me other than myself. For that, this life is sublime.