The Last 24 Hours

Imagine yourself with the gun barrel against your head right now, except that you have expected it 24 hours before. You know that you would die in the next 2 minutes when Bob finally listed all the reasons why you deserve to die.

What do you want to remember about your last 24 hours?

I surely wouldn’t want to remember my mom crying when I called her a whore walking out the door. I wouldn’t want to remember how fucked up I was from the bad marijuana I got from my best friend. I wouldn’t want to remember calling her a bitch behind her back after calling other people bitches behind their backs with her.

24 hours would be too short for a trip; although it would have been nice if I was on a trip now. It would have been nice if Bob shot me in Costa Rica. So, I guess I will spend the first 30 seconds of Bob’s hate speech to remember the trip I had 2 years ago with my ex-boyfriend.

The next minute and a half, I think I would want to remember homeless Robert from the Starbucks line whom I bought coffee for regardless of how wild his eyes was and must have suffered a terrible jitter after that macchiato. I would remember telling my friend that he is an intelligent and beautiful person regardless of how much he hates himself right now. I would spend a few seconds of the hate speech imagining that he would get better after I died.

I would want to remember sending my mom a long sentimental email telling her how grateful I am for sacrificing 10 of every 24 hours 6 days a week just to send me to school here in America. I would call my dad and tell him to stop smoking and drinking and to take care of my mom ending the conversation with “I love you, dad” knowing that he would just say “Okay” awkwardly.

Maybe I would want to remember the last car ride with my friend, talking about something that matters like how to save the world and how he should move to California.

Maybe I would want to be remembered for something, too. 24 hours maybe a little too short to let the whole world remember me for something good. I will just focus on the few people I have.

Life isn’t short, but it’s ending by the minute. Unless you are aware of the pouring sand in the hour glass, you would just waste your life doing things that don’t matter. And the worst thing is you never know if death is going to be there when you turn the corner even before your time is up. You might be remembered for being a bitch, jerk, bump, or worst, not remembered at all. It’s not like any of these matters to you after you die. But the people who love you still live; and they will want to remember you no matter if you want to or not.

Now imagine if Bob has caught you by surprise, and you were not given a 24-hour notice before he nailed you down and put the gun barrel against your head.

What do you remember about your last 24 hours?

What would you have wanted to be remembered for after your last 24 hours has passed?

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