Probably be my final thoughts before I die. So I remembering being born, and then I know that I am going to die. But what happened in between? Does anyone remember? Do you? Do you?
Walking around, as best I can so close to death, asking people where the middle had disappeared. Or perhaps I would be too sick to move, so I would just be lying on my back. Trying, desperately trying, to remember the memories of the middle. Trying and trying but unable to do so no matter how hard I tried. Only coming up with blankness. With unknowing.
Why so depressing kro? Did something happen? Do you want to talk about it? Do you want an ice cream?
Yes, please. To the last one.
What are you, ten years old.
Oh fuck that would just make it even more depressing. Dying before you have even had the chance to make memories. Even though you may end up forgetting them all, at least you know (or think you know) that you had some memories in the first place.
Are you saying that ten year olds don’t have memories?
No, I am saying that till the age of twenty-five you have more or less wandered around like an over enthusiastic monkey with little or no understanding of life. So, the memories you think you have are like the air in that packet of Uncle Chips. Fucking annoying, and fucking pointless.
Jesus kro. Are you sure you are alright?
Yes. Now give me that ice cream. Double scoop. In a cone.
No napkins. Yeah, you heard that right. Tonight, we live like animals.