My Dearest Smokey,
I'm sorry. This has been a long time in the lurch. Death nears.
I know you don't understand what awaits you...but rest assured, I do. The ultimate causality of our existence is our inevitable march towards that singular moment when we cease to exist; and when your moment comes, I'm saddened to say it's gonna be cold, unforgiving, and infinitely finite in its end result. There won't be any doggy Heaven; nor a doggy Hell. You're going to just cease to exist. All that deft animal instinct you currently see diminishing before your eyes? One day it will just...extinguish. All that will be left will be the nothingness - and don't get me wrong, that notion sounds like at least something, but that's only because I'm a sub-par writer who doesn't have the grammatical means to adequately describe the concept of a never ending void. Trust me, it's going to totally suck.
That's a bad beat, my little buddy. This type of fate shouldn't even exist, let alone consume your sense of living. It's not fair and you don't deserve it at all.
My beloved one, best case scenario is you've got six months left; worst case you're gone by Wednesday. Either way, I vow these two things to you:
Have yourself a ball, playa. You deserve it.
I'm sorry. This has been a long time in the lurch. Death nears.
I know you don't understand what awaits you...but rest assured, I do. The ultimate causality of our existence is our inevitable march towards that singular moment when we cease to exist; and when your moment comes, I'm saddened to say it's gonna be cold, unforgiving, and infinitely finite in its end result. There won't be any doggy Heaven; nor a doggy Hell. You're going to just cease to exist. All that deft animal instinct you currently see diminishing before your eyes? One day it will just...extinguish. All that will be left will be the nothingness - and don't get me wrong, that notion sounds like at least something, but that's only because I'm a sub-par writer who doesn't have the grammatical means to adequately describe the concept of a never ending void. Trust me, it's going to totally suck.
That's a bad beat, my little buddy. This type of fate shouldn't even exist, let alone consume your sense of living. It's not fair and you don't deserve it at all.
My beloved one, best case scenario is you've got six months left; worst case you're gone by Wednesday. Either way, I vow these two things to you:
- I'm going to get incredibly loaded on a regular basis and spend some of my evenings updating this blog with a succession of wild and crazed emotions, all directly attached to my not-so-subtly anthropomorphized, first-world problem: YOU.
- You're going to burn out in fucking style, just the way you'd want it.
Have yourself a ball, playa. You deserve it.
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