Breathe Me

I read in the paper just last week about how there was a fire in a house in Victoria and how two women didn't make it out. And yeah, sure it's not the most shocking thing in the world, we've heard/read things like that all the time. What really made this article different was that I recognized one of the names of the girls; she went to Point Grey, and was just two years older than us. For me, it really hit home. I mean, I knew her. Sure, I never talked to her or anything, but I was once associated with her, and it scared me.

I keep thinking: Was she happy with how she lived her relatively short life? Did she regret anything? What were her last thoughts?

What if that was someone I actually knew, that I was close to?

What if that was me?

Would I be content with the life I had been living?

Would everything I had been doing previously have been worth my time?

Have I done anything worthy in my life that I can be proud of, or that is lasting?

Is anything I'm doing now good enough?

I just can't shake that feeling. It's a strange terrifying feeling, a sadness, a longing for something more. I don't want to go another day without telling the people I care about how much they mean to me.

I was never afraid of death; I just thought of it as something natural that was waiting for everybody. Some people go out sooner than others, and I guess that's the way it is, right? But then this happened... I'm not saying I'm scared of death. I guess I'm scared of what might happen if it happened to people a little closer to me, you know?

So, with that being said, you guys all mean a lot to me, but these are only words, and I don't think any of you will truly realize how much you mean.

~~Aaron

PS. This has nothing to do with anything, but it would be a lot easier to understand people's posts if they signed their name somewhere, rather than doing a process of elimination thing.