Life is too short to be sensible.
I sobbed at the end of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Not the silent, graceful weeping that poignant movies inspire but the soul-ripping/nose running/chest-clutching kind of howling. That’s a slight exaggeration but thank God I watched it alone on my laptop. The point of me telling you this is that I didn’t howl like a hyena because baby Benjamin died in old Daisy’s arms or because they never got to live their lives together like any normal couple. Instead, I cried because Benjamin died as an effing newborn, all cute and happy and excited and shit. How can a creature that bears not the merest blemish of having experienced this stupid world be allowed to return to the dirt?? I was freaking traumatized. Yes, Benjamin did get to experience in reverse order all the joys and despairs of life, but it’s just much easier to accept death when someone carries the physical scars of having lived a long and fulfilling life. When you watch someone die, you want to hear one last, exhausted gasp that says, “I’ve had enough of this fucking place.”
I guess what I’m trying to say is that our bodies and minds want us to abuse the hell out of them. Discover them, stimulate them, max em’ out. I don’t mean destroy them with drugs and alcohol or anything, but don’t waste so much energy planning and not executing. Even if we’re lucky enough to live till 70 or 80 years, we’ll only have around 40 to 50 of those years to really explore our full potential. It’s really just not enough time to debate on the pros and cons of every major decision. Make mistakes. Have regrets. Be heartbroken. Keep fucking up and sooner or later you’ll get something right.
I’ll leave you with one of my favorite quote ever:
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!” – Hunter S. Thompson