through hazy eyes she dreams of when they drove for miles in the mist and sitting on her daddy's lap outside some service station where she tried a milky way first time and yet its all a dream for now the mist is only in her sight and weeds are growing where her daddy sleeps
I’m not naturally a pessimistic person. I’m not really a particularly optimistic person, either. In fact, debates rage as to whether or not I am a person at all. I stubbornly insist that I am, although my reasons are largely personal.
I know I am not A.I., since it would involve having some “I”.
I come from a family who were very matter of fact about the basic outline of life, including the “death” part. This enabled them to genuinely enjoy getting older, since they didn’t see loss-of-youth or vigor as any kind of surprise or evil force to be fought. They believed, rather than dwelling on lost capability, that it was better to just figure out what they still could do that they enjoyed, and then go and do it.
Because change is inevitable, and tends in one direction, it’s better to learn to float on its current than to try and swim against it.
