I saw something on Facebook about living each day like it’s your last would result in telling your boss to fuck off, buying shoes and punching strangers.
I can relate to that. I really shouldn’t live each day like it’s my last or my last day might come much sooner than it should. However, if I knew for absolute sure it was my last day…well then…
What I should do is spend the day making touching videos for my husband and my kids and my grand kids, telling them to remember me well and live lives that make them happy and spread sunshine and unicorn juice all over humanity.
I could recreate childhood photos with my sisters to give to my mother so they could sit and laugh and cry and remember me fondly. They could post them on Facebook and people would look at them and cry, because fucking hell, Facebook people do some touching shit, right? I am constantly reading articles or watching videos that make me cry like I just dropped a hammer on my foot. Okay, not exactly like that. There would be more cursing involved in the hammer scenario.
I could use my last day to raise awareness for something..I don’t know..hunger? homelessness? Something worthwhile. My efforts would go viral and it might be the beginning to all humanity reaching an understanding that we all share this rock and making boundaries and fighting over resources and religion is just fucking ridiculous. My face would become the face of peace. And maybe be featured in future adult acne commercials.
In reality, what I would probably do is go to work. Only for a few minutes. Long enough to cackle wildly over never ever coming in again and I’d probably (absolutely) flip off a few people. I would leave without hugging anyone because work hugs make me so goddamn uncomfortable.
I’d have sex with my husband and mock him if he got all maudlin.
I’d cook for my kids. Cooking for my kids is something that has always brought me absolute satisfaction.
I’d eat what I wanted and I’d drink top shelf booze…I would not exit my existence sober. Fuck that.
I would find a quiet stretch of road and drive my car as fast as it would go.
I would eat every kind of pie known to man. Except pumpkin and rhubarb. Fucking rhubarb pie? Who thinks of this shit?
I would say exactly what I was thinking for the entire 24 hours. Unless it was cruel. I would keep those thoughts and take them with me when I left.
I would go to the tallest building I could find and in the final moments of my last day, I would know what it feels like to fly.
Probably none of those things are true. Other than the not being sober part. I definitely wouldn’t be sober.
I meant this to be funny, but I don’t feel funny at all right now. What I feel is a desire to continue existing. I feel like not wasting anymore time. I feel like being grateful for what is good in my life and an extreme desire to snap out of the lethargy I’ve been swimming through for months. I feel like smiling more often than I don’t.
On the other hand, I’m about to go out and shop and it’s a mere 3 days before Christmas. My lack of goodwill and crabbiness will be intact in no time.
Tell me just one thing you’d do if it was your last day.