The Big Dirt Nap

Maybe it is because I turned 42 last week, or maybe I am regretting some of the choices I have made over the years, whatever the cause of my reflection maybe, my thoughts have recently turned toward the big dirt nap. I am scared and would rather skip the whole thing. Now this fear is coming from a man that ironically loves graveyards; big ole spooky ones with mausoleums and statues of angels. I was talking about my anxiety with a friend this morning, and being a programmer he gave me the logical answers: you can't stop it, you won't be conscience, why worry. I guess that he is right...technically. However, I want to believe that I continue to be. Being is all I know, or at least all I remember. As human beings we are all given such a short little time on this planet and that is if we manage to stay healthy among the millions of little and big things that try to kill us everyday. For some people, it is not in their DNA to live very long. Let's face it, some giant fat asses live to be old giant fat asses and some don't. Whenever you hear about someone living to be 120 years old, it is always someone that smoked and drank all of their lives. Now out of the limited time we are given, let's say 76 years give or take a decade, how many of those are quality years? Our bodies are steadily meant to fall apart; that is how they are designed. I have actually read that scientist have discovered the trigger that makes our bodies grow old. We are actually coded to deteriorate. So regardless of whether you do your cardio everyday, eats lots of broccoli, and keep your system flowing with lots of fiber, we all have a one way ticket to garden. Also, dying has nothing to do with good and evil. Good people die, bad people die, the two are not related. Everyday there are such sad stories in the daily news about all of the sick children and innocent people whose clock ran out. One minute you are there, the next, who knows where the fuck you are? The only thing that I sense from a logical point of view, and that is with the illogical point that life has a point, is what happens to all that information. The information that we have been collecting every second of our lives until now. I do not even think that nature could be that cruel. Maybe we all are a bunch of little nano-bots collecting info about this world through each of our unique perspectives. Maybe we have to die, so we can do a big data dump back to the mother ship. But is the mother ship still waiting, or did it high tail it's ass out of this universe a long time ago? Everyday, millions of people beg the mother ship for a little info, a little intervention...something to take away the pain. But all I hear is silence. As much as I want to hear, I am not even getting a little white noise, or the sound of putting a shell to your ear. Once again, I am scared. When it is my turn will it be so quick that the blackness will be instant, or will I hold onto the cliff for as long as I can then fall back into the ocean? I think some people let go of this world because they need relief from it, and others let go because they can not hold on any longer. What a mixed blessing to be alive. It seems that the only reason worth existing is the chance to meet other wonderful little information collecting bits of electricity and to share. Having to die seems like it is almost worth the price of living. Maybe that is what I need to decide.