A 29-year-old man died yesterday. 29. I didn’t know him. It was the roommate of a friend. But it hit me. I’m not far from 29. At 29 you still feel like you are going to live forever.
Dead. At twenty-nine.
Crazy.
The knee-jerk reaction to young death is to “live like you might not see tomorrow.” To appreciate that the future is not guaranteed, to appreciate what you have because you plans for the future can be ripped out of your hands.
We’re probably not going to die tomorrow. We’re young. We can probably bank on some more years. But we can’t bank of forever. This ride is coming to an end at some point. Don’t forget to enjoy yourself.
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