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Thinking is a dangerous thing for me to do. Especially after my mother and I have had a "conversation" (I use that term loosely). This time my thought gravtitated towards death. Not surprising since I've been labeled as depressed and morbid by move than one of my contemporaries.



A few months ago I realized that I found thoughts of death conforting. That one day I and everyone I've ever known will be gone. "Dust in the wind" as they say. I just find that oddly comforting and I've been rereating into that comfort more and more as of late. Not that my thoughts have ventured into suicidal waters or anything so drastic (yet).



But my realization for tonight was that I want to outlive my mother. Only if by a little bit. If I could just get the phone call that she's dead and five minutes later walk into the street only to be hit by a bus that would be okay with me. Because I would know. I would know if I don't need her. I would know if I'd miss her. I would know I 'd laugh. I just want to know before I die, that's all.



Beyond that I don't give a damn.