fate

It's not everyone that knows their fate, knows what will come in the end, knows the final image that will fade out of view as their heart spasms it's final sputtering beat.... but I do.

When we were young we all thought we were immortal, untouchable little horny supermen that knew it all and would never die. We'd dance on the blade of a chainsaw if the notion struck us, confident that the sun would rise tomorrow just as it had all our short lives. I knew this as well as any, but for different reasons than most. The image of my ultimate passing was plastered on my mind. Like seeing your parents having sex, it was always there... disturbingly showing me the unthinkable.

Life has a different meaning to those that know the end. The fear of failure is gone, the anxiety of life is made manageable. Yet, within this the highs are dulled along with the lows. Life all becomes a pale shadow of the vision of your demise. There is no sweet without sour, no contentment without fear.

The day I learned of my demise was in many ways the beginning of my death. Like an amputee that can no long run, a part of me was cut away, tossed into a bio-hazard bag and thrown aside. I have limped through life ever since.