It ain’t no pick nick

Spoiled as we are, we think we are immortal and can do anything we want. Especially in summertime: Holidays!!!!

Then shit happens and friends start to die. All of a sudden. They don’t care if it is summer or not, whether there are holidays or not, they just drop out of life.

What is left is: missing battling insecurity – I can be next… - A startling awareness, though it should not surprise anyone: we are born to die.

Our companions are too young to knock on St Peters’ door and so are we. Our lives haven’t been fulfilled, because we wasted time. It is no secret that one goes when the time is there, not before the earthly task is fulfilled. Wasting time has a purpose from that point of view; it prevents us from reaching our goal in life and therefore, logically, prolongs the stay.

But John didn’t succeed in protracting and God knows he wasted lots and lots of time. Neither did Mary, or Ron for that matter. That is the scary part. I spent my days playing and partying too. Looking at the evidence this is not going to buy me extra years, on the contrary.

Now I am in a hurry, holus-bolus. To do what? To fulfil my life’s purpose. What purpose? Where’s the purpose? Did I loose it, give it away, put it in a shoebox under the bed? Where’s my fucking purpose? What if there’s no purpose......? No sense….

Silence


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