On your deathbed
More and more I question if anything I do is the right choice. Im well aware of the “Make it the right choice” mentality but that’s really fucking idealistic. When I’m stoked on life I feel like Im lying to myself. When I feel down about everything, everything makes sense. Whats the meaning of all of this? What does one think about during the last moments of their life? Whats the last thought that occupies ones breath? The other night I saw someone skating at UCSD and he was horrible. He was doing what I used to do for hours on end as a kid but he was happy. I was happy. Is there really a point in doing something if it doesn’t make you happy? Cause it seems that there is all of the points to do something if it does make you happy. If you live happy you die happy. If you live sad you die sad. Negativity spreads like the fucking plague but so does positivity. Does a trophy matter while you’re dreaming? If I can hold it I can see it but if I can see it I cannot feel it. On my deathbed I do not wish to see, I wish to feel. I wish to feel accomplished. Not from the things I’ve seen but the things I’ve felt. Happiness. Love. Passion. That’s all that really matters.