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We’re All Going To Die (Part Two)

April 22, 2010

I am 30 years old. I always say I want to live to be 100, and that I plan on being healthy and active my entire life. So that means I have 70 years left. Sounds like a long time, doesn’t it? But of course one doesn’t truly know how much time one has left.

All we know is that someday down the road we won’t be here anymore. And before you get down in the dumps about the fact that we’re always one breath closer to death, use this information to your advantage.

Do you really want to stay angry at that person in your life that you love? Just because that one time they were watching TV instead of paying attention to your story about the guy from work who sits in the cubicle next to you who apparently has serious allergy problems, based on the sounds you hear coming from over there? Even though that person you love normally pays attention to you, even when you’re talking about what happened last night on Gossip Girl?

Do you really want to give your time and energy to worrying about how your butt looks in those jeans, to how you have ten pounds to lose, to how you wish you looked like that person in that magazine who doesn’t even really look like that, and if she did, it’s because she’s living on spinach and sesame seeds?

Do you really want to stay in that job, that relationship, that class, that friendship that makes you feel like your soul is being turned inside out and chewed on by badgers? Is making other people happy with your choices going to satisfy you?

When you are at the end of your life, what do you want to look back on? What things will you wish you had been brave enough to do? What will you wish you hadn’t spent so much damn time fretting over?

(Part One of “We’re All Going To Die!” was written when I was struggling with the decision to leave a job that made me miserable, and can be found here.)

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