I was never supposed to see tomorrow. I knew it long ago. Since I was about 23, actually. It was like I had been given a prophecy. I would die when I turned 32. Tomorrow is my 33rd birthday.
For a long time, though, I had this nagging feeling that I would die when I was 32. This voice that told me that I wouldn’t make it past that age was reassuring in some ways. I had no desire to live – and, some would argue, that what I was experiencing at the time certainly wasn’t considered living – so in a lot of ways it was a goal that I worked towards. [Read more…]