If I keep consuming content from over 10 years ago,
I'll be dead before I'm 30.
I can guarantee it.
It's unhealthy to relive the past like that.
Like it's absolutely mandatory.
Because what good does a cheeky smile do you,
if you can't keep up that same energy over dinner, over coffee?
If a smile takes too much willpower,
What are we supposed to do?
What do you think God smells like?
I hope it's strawberries or raspberries, blood oranges!
Something like that?
Just some sort of fruit.
I didn't choose those because they're my favourite,
well I did, sort of,
really it's because I want to be the only one in heaven who thought seriously about that question before they arrived.
I'm hoping to get brownie points,
Maybe the person who guesses it right gets a prize?!
And maybe….
Maybe... I'll be the only person who guessed it right.
The thing is, I was smiling extra wide on Tuesday to make up for all of the times I failed to smile on Monday.
But Monday, I just wasn't in the mood. I had a migraine, I mean, several.
A few migraines. Several hours long. How was that supposed to make me feel?
Good? Bad? Nothing at all? Somewhere in between?
If God really had a good answer for me, maybe I could forgive him. Just maybe.
I feel like- do people get nervous walking into heaven?
Seriously. Am I dressed right? Am I dressing for prayer? Or is this a casual thing? Is it formal?
I always hated formal settings. I like to be in control. Is that even going to matter? But if it doesn't, am I still myself?
Does dying mean becoming the person you spent your life running away from? Am I okay with that? Does it matter?
If I keep talking in metaphor will it make the outcome any better?
Any clearer? Any less painstakingly obvious?
When I die, can I give up this whole writing thing?
Or is that what heaven is?
A headache on Monday?
Fading ink from a pen?
The smell of blood oranges?
I met the big man for coffee last week and
was surprised he drank decaf.
I met him and he told me to take a break.
To put my feet up.
Relax a little.
Love a little.
Die a little.
I'm telling you, I met the guy
and
He told me to take my foot off the break.