The latest two generations make a lot of jokes about dying, but despite the cavalier humor, they rarely actually do it. Don't get me wrong — that's a good thing and you really shouldn't commit suicide. If you apply yourself, there is fucking magic inside you and I really hope I'm around to see the crazy shit you pull off. The weird thing about our generations, though, is that despite our escapist death-longing, we rarely actually live like we believe we are going to die. I'm sure that on an intellectual level, we get it. We realize it. We know we're going to die.
But that knowledge doesn't actually affect the way that we live. And that is a problem. There's no need for direction or accomplishment if you have unlimited time. We hear all the time "you have all the time in the world" — NO. You fucking don't. You have, on average, about 85 years. By the time I realized this, I had 50.
Actively remembering and thinking about the fact that you will fucking die, and that it could be in 30 seconds will push you to climb higher almost every day. When I actively consider my impending doom, the next hour becomes so much more important to me: what can I accomplish right now that my children will be proud of? If I die, what story will the person who finds me tell their loved ones? How can I inspire greatness through my death?
If I die right now, I will be found with a bourbon sour, made the right way, at a computer on a desk where I do work that inspires people. They will know that I worked, and that I took the time to enjoy life. The individual that finds me will read this. They will think about that, and they will share it when they go home. The Medical Examiner that does my autopsy will find broken bones, and then muscles which have recently been damaged by working out and practicing martial arts, despite those broken bones.
My corpse will challenge them.
I want you to read these words, and I want you to know that I fucking mean them:
You are going to die. When you do — in 30 seconds, in an hour, three days from now, or 60 years from now — will it matter? Will it matter to anyone that isn't sad about it? Will you inspire at least those who cared enough to be sad?