What would I do if I didn't have tomorrow? I laugh in the theatre, I cry as I read, I sleep and I say, "I don't need to find the answer today."
I don't know what to do with my life, but I don't need to find the answer today. What if that weren't true? What if Uncle Sam or Jean C. wanted me and I had to want them back?
Sometimes I feel like I'm exhaling my last breath. My eyes follow this imaginary vapour as the wind carries it away, and my heart aches with sadness. To have it all end and still not know. My imagination is excellent, but I know the horrors of war in my head would pale next to a veteran's stories.
Still, I do imagine spilling the last of my life on foreign soil, and wonder if I would be different. With that before me, would I grasp some purpose that's hidden in all of these possibilities? I've done remarkable things when I was under the gun (no pun intended).
More importantly, would the fruits of that labour mean more than what I'm hoping to amass in the next 50 years? Would that boy who became a man so far from home be more content than the man of 80 years who passes away in his sleep?
I don't know. I don't want to know. I think differently than I did 10 years ago, and that's enough for now. I have tomorrow.
If you have something to say, feel free to send it to me or write it in my guestbook. You can also have a look at what other people wrote in my guestbook.
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