The End of Days

What a memorable week. The day after my 19th birthday, I discover I only have 17440 days left to live. This is of course assuming the Red Sox don’t win the World Series anytime before then (I don’t think my heart could handle it). Even though I know exactly when I’m going to die, I don’t think it will alter the way I look at life. Ever since I got to Ithaca, I’ve operated under the motto “take things one day at a time.” Why spend time worrying about my impending death, when I’m struggling more and more every day to make friends and social connections? It is certainly an interesting perspective – one that might even make someone change their outlook on life. However over the past year, my perception of death has changed drastically. It was just over a year ago that my best friend’s father committed suicide by jumping off the Tobin Bridge in Boston. I watched in horror, as my friend, one of the strongest people I have ever known, break down and get consumed by the dark aura that is death. He thought about it all the time, almost studying it. How could his father have embraced such a dark fate? My friend got consumed by the idea – to the point where I feared for his safety. However, he returned to his senses, realizing that his father’s escape route was not necessary the best one. And he told me that day that he intended to take things one day at a time, and to do his best in everything. If you analyze The End too much, you lose sight of the Beginning. And so I follow that idea – one day at a time. Maybe in 17440 days I will die. But at least I’ll have died doing the best I could.