Suppose that your death is imminent within the next minute. You are alone. You know that your death will be painless but there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop it. What do you think your lasts thoughts would be?
Oh crap.
Call the wife.
If there’s still time, call my parents.
If there’s still time, call Sallie Mae and laugh.
Oh wow! I don’t have to worry about any of that bullshit anymore.
Tough decision, as one never really knows until the moment arrives. I’m torn between:
- Wait a minute! Can we talk about this?
- I REFUSE to accept this.
- I knew I shoulda worked late today.
- I picked a Baaaddd day to give up smoking!
- Oh, crap.
OK, what’s next?
This is going to be interesting. I hope I’m wrong about the nature of the universe, so I can come back and haunt people for kicks.
ow ow ow
Oh, crap, did I remember to turn off the stove?
I wonder if my cats will eat me.
I guess that expiration date’s on there for a reason.
Hmm, I sure left a lot of porn for those near and dear to me to find.
Must . . . water . . . plants . . .
I think about dying every day. Usually, I’m torn between blue, or pink.
Okay, but seriously, my final thoughts would probabky just be:
deep breath
“Ahhhh.”
I think about dying every day. Usually, I’m torn between blue or pink.
Okay, but seriously, my final thoughts would probabky just be:
deep breath
“Ahhhh.”
I’ve thought about it and decided that I would probably be sorry that I hadn’t told my wife that I love her as often as she would like to hear it. I’d also be sorry that I hadn’t made it perfectly clear that I want her to do whatever it takes to be happy when I’m gone. I guess I have some things to do.
Sorry to be serious. I appreciate the flippant comments, I really do.
I, for one, apologise for making my flippant comment twice. :smack:
Though taking my own life is not an option, I won’t have any regrets when death does come. I’m not afraid of what is or isn’t next. I just don’t want my friends or family to be too uncomfortable whenever my time does run out. I want to show them I’m okay, not scared, and not to worry. Maybe even set an example. When I die, I’ll try, if I can, to do it with a smile.
Not a big, shit eating grin, no, but a nice, gentle smile would be fine. 
I prolly shouldn’t have sauteed those mushrooms my ex sent me. Damn.
Ok, what the hell, I’ll try crack. And heroin. And meth. And the Packers suck.
The lyrics from the end of “You Are the Everything,” by REM. I don’t know why. I just always felt like that’ll be the last thing to run through my head before I go. Assuming, of course, that I get a final thought.
In light of that, I probably shouldn’t listen to it in the car at all. . .