For a gentleman who’s still very much alive, you think an awful lot about death, don’t you?

You’re right, I certainly do. I always have, really. And if it hasn’t been death, it’s been something else, something one would put a few pegs beneath it, something that would make you want to die if you were not already dead. It’s true, though, I think about it a lot. Especially when I’m by myself. When I’m walking back to my car at 2:30 AM, I’m more or less affirmed in my belief that someone is about to attempt murder. That’s part of why I leave a lot of loose change in my bag, not only so that I can quickly gather exact change for a yoohoo at the office vending machine, but so that if a prospective homicidal lunatic attempts to throw a wrench in my evening, I have something heavy to swing at his face.

It’s all quite simple, really. When things are at a place that I can be comfortable with, I’m pretty sure that something awful will happen to somehow cause it to unravel. So why not dying? Before I left for college, something I worked really hard to earn, I knew I had cancer. Or that I would get in a serious car accident. Or that someone would remove one of my limbs in a fight. Or that a car I drove by late at night would be driven by a guy with a loaded revolver. Something would have to screw it up. I suppose after a year of navigating the inner workings of a system that didn’t seem to want me and that I also wanted no part of, and then somehow emerging with something on the other side that I can at least proudly associate myself with, something would have to fuck it up, right?

I need to enjoy things more. Not that I don’t enjoy them at all. Just more. It’s easy to think this way when you’re leaving work at 2:00 AM. Almost everyone you know is sleeping. You only really know them through the window of missed social gatherings that is their Facebook page, or by lines of text on a smartphone. It’s easy to feel like you’re missing something, like you’re more susceptible to… anything, really. There’s less distracting you from your own mind. Working until 2:00 AM might not be ideal for a seasoned night owl. But whatever, I’m not stopping now. I just need to accept it when things are good. As good as things have been before, I don’t think I’ve been able to do that. Ever.