I will be just as conscious of my existence when I am dying as I am now.
I am alive and I will still be alive when I'm dying.
At whatever age my body grows unfit to hold the thoughts in my head,
I will be just as alive
As when I was 15 on an airplane flying to a place I felt was home while listening to Harry Eifler sing:

Soon enough we'll be dead
Get it out of your head
Cause the waves crashed your beaches long ago

And when I'm dying where I'm dying
In the future,
My famous last words,
No matter how legendary,
will not be famous
or remembered.
Because the only words that get remembered
are from the mouths of those
who people care to hear.
I am not one of those mouths,
And my words will be forgotten
Just like my name by my great-grandchildren's children.
But despite that, I will know that I was still vigorously alive when I died,
And I will know that the last thought that my body could provide my brain
was the dreams of the broken hearts,
cures to the diseased,
secrets that are spit with giggles into hushed ears on playgrounds,
and the keys to all the locks in the world.
Just like every last thought ever thought by everyone who has died.
But no one will ever remember my attempt to say those secrets,
Because none of the trillions of last words in existence
were ever important enough
for anybody to care to listen to the whispers that escaped dying mouths.
No one cares to listen and that is why my words will be forgotten,
along with everyone else's.