We are always, always mortal

Sleeping a lot but still remaining tired makes one question themselves. What have I been doing with my life that makes me fall asleep every time I sit down on a padded surface, whether it is a rug, lounge chair, or stool at work? Am I addicted to stimulation, and thus, my body naturally balances this addiction with sleeping at random intervals? Maybe, it is because I do not eat meat, but who really needs protein anyway?

Yesterday I went to a memorial service, among other things. I did not know the guy. I knew his wife. But finding myself completely connected with him kind of made me wish I went to random funerals more often. First of all, I do not cry much, and I cried at the service. It would be beneficial if my body produced more tears. Also, I am quite pessimistic when it comes to life. Going to the service made me think that maybe there is some meaning in it all, if only a little.

Lives are just so fascinating. We might not do much in the grand scheme of things but seeing what one person has done with 20, 40, 60 some years is illuminating. They obviously touched people’s lives. Hell, I was sitting there, crying, touched without even knowing the damn guy. Do a little, meet people. It’s something.

Of course, funerals always make one question themselves. What if I am addicted to stimulation because I want words of inspiration to be said at my memorial service? I should start befriending comedians or poets before I die just to ensure that the speeches will really make me look good. I guess, in the end, everyone looks good.

So what have I been doing with my life that makes me fall asleep and never feel fully awake? Obsessing about the end, obviously.