Today, as a matter of fact just right now, I had a premonition.
You see, a friend of mine died just yesterday from a lung cancer that had spread to mess all his insides up. He was 49, almost obese, smoked like forest fire, and drank like a fish. Qasem was a jovial fellow who always seemed happier than a rat in a cheese factory. No tubes and fuckin' wires n' hook ups for him yo, no sir; he said he wanted to go the day before…
I am 43, and I also like to eat, smoke, and drink.
For a while now, in my middle-aged wandering mind, a few thoughts about my personal health issues, have been driving me abso-friggin'-lutely crazy. I mean to the point of mindless obsession. And it hasn't helped that being a member of the armed forces I have to make sure that my physical attributes meet the terms of some bullshit chart, which some cock sucking dickwad designed who knows when in the Pentagon!
Let me try to explain:
You find yourself feeling hating life when your most inner self isn't sure or is at odds with what the fuck it is that you are programmed to think that you ought to do with your life and body. You have been given plenty of advice and so-called instructions. You know, all the jive that everybody who was older than you and insisted to know more and better than you told you as you grew up.
And you dug up all the other junk that clutters your mind on your own in your curious masturbating discovery phase of your life. Some of them are from so long past that they are very deeply embedded in your soul; thus giving way to the condition that disobeying them results in deep sense of guilt and simply feeling like shit!
There are, I feel obliged to suspect, other psychological factors involved in why you'd feel shitty because of things you do or don't do relating to your body. But hell if I know what they are. I ain't no shrink and I am not even gonna try to front like one.
For right now, I've figured it out like this for myself: Fuck it. Do everything that you enjoy to do. Be it eat, drink, fuck, or smoke,… what have you. But god dammit, don't over do it. You always know, and have known, when you're over doing it. Don't go overboard!
That way, if you are lucky enough to be conscious at the time of your death, and give enough of a fuck to reflect and make a quick review of your life before you say adios, you won't feel sorry for the things you did, and worse, the things you didn't but wanted to do!
After that, who'd give a fuck? Damn sure you won't!