The sign seen here “I Survived the Double M Haunted Hayrides” should be amended for me to say “For Now” based on what was foretold that evening. I’d been coerced into attending the frightful event with a few co-workers, and after dodging and ducking and screaming my way through a hayride and several houses of horror, we paused for a moment in the field, where some of the characters were making their way through the crowd. We stood talking and celebrating our survival when this grim reaper (seen below with my pal Betsy) approached our group, pointed me out, and told me I was going to die on September 23, 2021.
My first reaction was, ‘Are they supposed to say shit like that to people? That might seriously fuck up the wrong person.’
My second reaction was, ‘I could take all of this as a macabre joke if he wasn’t so specific about the date.’
My third reaction was, ‘Now that I know, I don’t need to worry about it.’
That mix of relief and exultation fueled me rather than scared me. If I’m going to die in less than two years, I’m not putting up with all the bullshit that we too often put up with. I’m also not going to bother doing things I’d rather not do. In short, I’m taking this death sentence and using it to live the life we should all be living. You should too, even if you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.
(I suppose that also means September 23, 2021 is the last day this blog will exist, unless I do some major pre-populating, which seems unlikely given that I’M ABOUT TO DIE.)
