By definition, you have to live until you die. Better to make that life as complete and enjoyable an experience as possible, in case death is shite, which I suspect it will be.
Lee have you just made this up?
Oh my God, what if you wake up some day, and you’re 65, or 75, and you never got your memoir or novel written; or you didn’t go swimming in warm pools and oceans all those years because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It’s going to break your heart. Don’t let this happen.
As much as I’m enjoying being in Gozo, I’m very excited to go home. I miss Charlie a lot. This holiday has made me realise that life’s too short, I need to see more places and do more things with my life. I don’t wanna be tied to a job I hate for the rest of my life, not being able to take holidays because I’ve got too much responsibility. I’m under far too much pressure for a 20 year old. I’m not gonna want to come home from Australia.