11.8.11
Death
is routine.
It is
expected.
Yet,
why are we surprised
when it happens to someone
we know?
Someone we love?
Someone we hate?
It is something
that happens to others.
Never us.
Sometimes it
consumes
what we want
and what we don’t.
But in the end,
all
that really matters,
is how we are remembered.
Will I make an impact?
Or will I drown in an ecclectic
mixture of
the various
drugs
I cannot seem to stay away from.
Will my family
have to live with the fact
that their only daughter
was so masochistic and
selfish
that she had no regard
for anyone but
herself?
No,
that can’t happen to me.
I must be referring to
someone
else.