If someone dies in a horrible fire, do they get a discount at a crematorium?
A kid I used to go to school with who I’d describe as “not unintelligent, but definitely mentally deficient” has just published a book, met Margaret Thatcher and several members of British Royalty, got a job in junior government and all before his twentieth birthday. It really is making me think that true genius is destined to go unnoticed or only be recognised posthumously. This thought saddens me.
I’ve come to realise this and the thought of it scares me more than any phobia imaginable. I haven’t made any posts for a while and have had no e-mails or rush of concern and I can only further this by thinking that, if I died quite suddenly I would not be missed. Family and close friends would of course be sad to see me go and would miss me but in the grand scheme of things, I will not be missed. I’m going to put my best efforts and resources into changing this, as soon as possible.
I say he’s a friend, that’s a bit of a reach. He’s a person I know, that some of my friends like and who I’m unfortunately forced to spend an unreasonable amount of time with despite my intense dislike of him. I wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire, I’d wank over his burning body. I’m tempted to spend my last few days on earth slowly beating him to death with a teaspoon.
I think that the sooner someone comes to terms with that fact, the better. It’s common belief really that when you accept this, you find a sense of freedom and a better grasp of things. I know now that it’s not worth letting things upset or anger me, I don’t have enough time on this earth for any of that. I’d rather just get on with it and carry on being happy.
I repeat, nobody, has ever been described as “Always Smiling” while still alive. I hate how we romanticize everything that strikes a chord with us emotionally. When someone dies apparently they suddenly become this beacon of white light in a sea of grey, they’re quite literally the next incarnation of the Dalai Lama in waiting if their friends and family are to be believed. When people get married, all they will mention is how much they love one another and how much they can’t bare to be apart. Why omit the most important parts of life? I say let’s all just be honest, “He was a bit of a dick, he used to annoy the fuck out of me but I wish he was still here because no-one can fill that gap” sounds so much more sincere. “Sometimes you frustrate me to the point that I want to scream in your face and break everything in sight, but even then I still know that I’d rather be arguing with you than pretending I’m happy with someone else.” It just sounds so much more honest and truthful than lying to someone’s face and selectively remembering the good parts.
A fear of not “going out with a bang.” I don’t want to die alone, decrepit and with someone on hand to wipe the crumbs from the corner of my mouth. I don’t want to be staring at the faces of my children and not remember the times we shared, let alone their fucking names. I don’t want to be the burden that nobody wants to admit actually is one. I figure I’ve got two choices to remedy this, either live my life “with a bang” and just hope that sooner or later it takes me out at the same time or do a Hunter S. Thompson and redecorate the walls with the inside of my skull when I can feel my days in a care-home fast approaching. The first one hasn’t worked for the last few years so it looks like I’m going to have to invest in a gun eventually, I’m thinking Hunter was bang on with 67.