Why is I? Why me? Why am I experiencing the universe? Why are my seconds like mayflies in a tempest? And what will it be like when my brain finally fizzles out?

I remember when I didn’t worry about growing old – now I’m fighting for survival, to hang on to the end. When will I decide that the fight is not worth it and let go? Sometimes I don’t want to feel. I want to be numb. Is this what death is? What about my idea of self? Am I so limited that I can only think of myself as a projection? A perception on a perceived path. That doesn’t make sense. I’m trying to think of an idea I read sometime ago and I just can’t recall it. My life is a – a perceived notion of ideas ? Something like that. Maybe when I read this again it’ll come to me. If I subscribe to the idea that the universe is a hologram on a two dimensional template then when I die will I be connected to everything on a two dimensional plane? Do I dissolve into this plane?

I had a good friend. Had – he killed himself two years ago. I think of him often and where he his. His last words to me were “don’t worry about me , I am fine”. I hope he’s right. I’ll be seeing his kids tomorrow