Oh the fun filled thoughts that crowd my head on manic afternoon. Apologies for an overtly navel-gazing post (I’ll keep it brief).
Do other people think about this? It’s something that I’ve often thought about and acknowledged my weirdness for doing so. Is it an only child thing? What does it reveal about my psyche that I a) reveal this fact and b) think it in the first place?
I suppose the visualisation of the aftermath of your own demise is the ultimate fly on the wall scenario. With a bit of luck people will come, they’ll play good music and they’ll say nice things (that’s the law!), so I guess, if nothing else, just putting the thought out there demonstrates a good degree of neediness on my part.
But, once I’m gone and I’ve donated all my body parts as per Nic’s suggestion, why would I care?
Death is the ultimate fullstop. Until that point we’re all still learning and evolving, still able to right wrongs and make positive changes. I’d like to think that when the day comes to say my goodbyes I’ll be happy with my legacy.
So enough of this, I think I’ve pulled out all the fluff….let’s talk about something altogether happier…Glee’s back on next week!