I’m going to keep this short and sweet. Every day you’re alive is unearned. Every day you exist on Earth is a fucking miracle. Your parents made you and raised you (or didn’t) without your permission. But now you’re here. You’ll be dead soon. But you’re not dead yet.
That truly won’t last forever. Every time you drive down the freeway you’re trusting that all those other people out there won’t just cross that median and kill you. Every time you eat at a restaurant you’re trusting that the chef won’t accidentally poison you. Every time you close your eyes you’re trusting that a psychotic stranger won’t stab you in the fucking face and make a mask out of your skin.
This life is temporary. Death is permanent. You will do very few things while you are here on Earth, but you will do NOTHING forever. Don’t waste your time here doing nothing. There is plenty of time for that while you chill in the ground until the cemetery you ended up in gets turned into a Walmart.
Life is glorious. Life is full of adventure. Life is full of limitless opportunity.
Don’t waste it. Don’t wait. There is no promise of tomorrow.
What if this road, that has no held surprises
these many years, decided not to go
home after all; what if it could turn
left or right with no more ado
than a kite-tail? What if its tarry skin
were like a long, supple bolt of cloth,
that is shaken and rolled out, and takes
a new shape from the contours beneath?
And if it chose to lay itself down
in a new way; around a blind corner,
across hills you must climb without knowing
what’s on the other side; who would not hanker
to be going, at all risks? Who wants to know
a story’s end, or where a road will go?