I have been having this thought a lot lately, and this is what I think about it. (What I think. About the thought. I've been having.)

I think at first it sounds incredibly morbid and depressing, but after you think about it for awhile it's actually realisic and very uplifting.

This is the thought:

Someday, every person you have (or haven't, for that matter) ever crossed paths with is going to die.

One day every person reading this will not be thinking, breathing, using their five senses, or doing whatever else it is that makes us alive.

There will be a finite number of keys I will press in my lifetime. There will be an imaginary inventory of the number of times I will have laughed and farted and cried and eaten across however long my existence as Megan Boyle on this planet will be. There is a set amount of times I will prepare scrambled eggs. There is a certain number of words that will exit my mouth, and a certain number of those words that will be heard by someone else.

My time will be, say, seventy years long to me, but another person will know me as fifteen years or four days or six months or three minutes or (x amount of time).

And that's all of me they'll know.

That's how long I will have existed for them.

And then I'll die just like everyone else and we'll just see what happens or doesn't happen after that.

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