a multitude of words,

progressing down the page.

Flowing and moving,

my mind pick and choosing,

intro and conclusing,

with a rational stance,

thesis strong, confidant,

on a topic I’ve merely skimmed through at a glance…

I would like to have this somewhere, just in case. Though I have told a few people close to me when conversation turns just so, it would make me feel more at ease to have my final wishes documented somewhere in case they thought I was kidding when I said it, or we were too drunk and they figured I was…well, just drunk. Here before you are my final wishes, so, heaven forbid I die before I grow into a bigger, real-er person with a documented will, this is what I would like to become of my body. Please don’t judge. 

In my seventh grade science classroom stood a skeleton. When examined closely it became apparent that this skeleton was actually the real remains of someone. An indian woman I remember, with a name I’ve since forgotten engraved in a plaque where she hung/stood. This must have made a deep impression on me for I still think about her from time to time and wonder just what her life was like and just how she ended up in my middle school classroom in Colorado. She had broken her leg at some point along the way, the healed scar still apparent on her bare bone.

My final wish is that my organs be donated in their entirety, let as many people possible make use of them, give them the opportunity of a better life. Whatever cannot be used as implants for living persons can be donated to the scientific community to be poked and prodded, examined under a microscope, done to whatever it is that scientists do.

My bones, on the other hand, I want to remain intact. I would request that my family and friends seek out the means necessary to preserve and sanitize my bones, so that they can be fused with faux cartilage and re-assembled with screws like the nice Indian woman who lived in that classroom. Er, perhaps she was not nice, perhaps she was an asshole, I should not jump to assumptions. I would like to be put on a nice sturdy platform just as she was, but my final resting point should not necessarily be a classroom. If my family or friends are not creeped out by the whole situation I would like to be used as decoration in someones home. Use me as a coat rack, or perhaps hang jewelry off my ribcage. Stick flowers in my eye sockets and put me on the porch as decoration on Halloween. Let your children teach me patty cake and dance around the living room with me when the mood strikes. I want to dance for all of eternity.  

In the end, I want my memory to survive. While my heart may cease to beat, my bones need not cease to be. While you all may resist thinking about what will happen when you die, while you may consider options in a somber state of mind, I choose another route. Please honor my request, it is my dying wish. 

(ps- this is not a suicide note)

Change is good

Change helps you grow

Which all people should

Change is what happens at every season

That warm summer breeze that feels so pleasing

When things don’t change they rot and stagnate

What used to have substance now carries no weight

Things that are shiny soon become dull

And that warm summer breeze will

eventually bring snow

That’s the fear of missing out, 

that’s why I can’t stay in

when all my friends go out.

I might be a people pleaser,

but it also pleases me,

you’ve just got to have a balance

between joy and misery.