Grappling With Life's Finitude

I just bought a beer and a can of black beans down the street at Summit grocery. The clerk there has recognized me several times before and hasn't carded me.

But I just got a buzz cut. So he may not have recognized me. So he carded me.

The old guy behind me said that I should savor that moment. That soon I would be old and that no one would card me ever again.

Once my aunt told me that she was starting to feel the finitude of her life. That she might not get a chance to open up a bed and breakfast. That she might not make it back to certain countries.

The faster I deal with the fact that I am going to die the better. I can't let this life elude me. I can't let it slip away in the working world. I can't let myself forget that I'm going to die. Because I want so badly to live.

I want to die. Because if I won't die then I won't live. I don't want to die yet. But I need to know that I'm going to die. I need to embrace death so that I can embrace life.

Don't forget: we are all going to die.

Don't forget: we should love while we can.

Don't forget: I'm crazy and nothing I say makes sense.

Don't forget: I'm gonna keep saying weird shit because I want to.

Don't forget: I want my sense of my impending death to give me some fire for this life, for these experiences, for these people.

Why don't I ask everyone how they are doing? Why do I lapse into silence when they simply say 'good'? What is this life all about?

How do I live best?