I'm thinking about dying.
I'm considering the end.
I'm wondering about it.
I'm wondering what happens to the music in my head.
I'm worrying about that.
I care that my memories might disappear.
I'm afraid I might be wrong.
I'm afraid of hell.
I'm thinking of all the people I've damaged.
I'm thinking of all the beauty in the world.
I'm thinking of my little tiny self.
I'm thinking of eating a hamburger.
I'm hoping my life is worth something on the plus side of the gray misty source of all phenomena.
I'm thinking of my favorite joke.
A bear and a rabbit were taking a shit in the woods. The bear turned to the rabbit and said,, "Say, do you have problems with shit sticking to your fur?" "No," replied the rabbit, so the bear wiped his ass with the rabbit.
Oh God, why is that so funny?
Is it the nonchalant way that the bear just uses the rabbit as a personal waste disposal device, just moments after acknowledging it as a fellow intelligence? Is it that surprisingly blatant and purposefully disdainful categorization of a fellow and brother as a mere piece of trash?
Why is that so funny?
Oh God, why is its so funny when the bear wipes its ass with the rabbit?
Then the weather started doing this crazy thing, but first, something out of a happy ending happened, is what happened... I found my umbrella, which had been lost in Denton for weeks, and right then... Oh my God, everything went to hell in a hand basket right then.
Wow. Just... Wow. Wow, fucking wow! The wind was like a wall, a wall, a wall! Holy SHIT! I thought, and holy crap, holy crap, I'm blinded and what was that, oh shit. I can't believe what's happening, I can't see, and... and... wait, there's Jupiter, right there. Right over there, on the clear western horizon, with stars. I must must be dreaming. Everything besides the western horizon is going to hell, so I must be dreaming.
This is one of those rare real moments. An instant memory which keeps going as a moment, somehow. It's everything about the moment. Damn... it's the night, the lack of light, the temperature of the air, the movement of the air as it moves over and past my skin, and just the sound of it, humid and cool. That can't possibly be a real thing that I'm experiencing and remembering right now.
It has to be a dream.
Everything feels like a dream now.
See, this is what I'm talking about.
And all I can think of now, is, how can this be real, how can this be real, how can this be real.