I pause a moment and thoughts of death climb onto me. They hang from my shoulders and breathe in my face, and I get to thinking about religion and heaven and hell.
Or to be honest, I think of hell.
There’s nothing worse than thinking that that’s exactly where you’re going when eternity comes for you.
That’s where I usually think I’m going.
Sometimes I take comfort in the fact that most people I know are probably going to hell too. I even tell myself that if all my family are going to hell I’d rather go with them than enter heaven. I mean, I’d feel sort of guilty. There they’d be, burning through eternity, while I’m eathing peaches and most likely patting pitiful Pomeranians like Miffy up in heaven.
I don’t know.
I don’t.
Really.
I’m pretty much just hoping to live decent. I hope that’s enough.