In exactly a month’s time from today, I’ll be turning 25 from 24, but not without a trial.
It has occurred to me for several times now that 24 is the calling number of Death.
Something ominous about this age taunts me now and then. An uncle of mine had his tragic passing happen around this time in his life. That tipped off the whole deal for me.
Ever since, I have come to see people die young alike on screens too.
The hard quoted “Oh but she’s only 24” has poisoned my thinking.
To further incriminate such thinking the pandemic of Covid-19 came about, I believe.
I wondered then were I to go unbeknownst to me, who shall literally speak in my place. I ought to have a last word aren’t I?!
In such a folly, dear reader, I write myself an eulogy.
It was a blessed life, my dear. Amongst the dwellings of many a ill-fortuned, the heaves graced upon me, a life of true wonder. For eternity, I am grateful to have been the shine of such a life.
Dear Reader,
I apprize here my blessings past in true gratitude without the slightest immodesty to your readership.
I deem as the cinch of prosperity bestowed upon me, my maiden voyage to Paris.
La vie en rose, c’etait vrai, un instant
True love may not have been in my cards but a fierce passion for the arts carried through for the continuum of thus life.
The fairest of my blessings was a kind family.
A true pair of supportive parents put forth their time and wealth in my upbringing. In their rearing, I became best self of my person.
Of all the agonies, I have been terribly agonized by the loneliness.
Nevertheless I realized when I was closer to quarter of a century that life’s grandness supersedes all the gloom in the World.
To that end, do not preclude I am settling for the end of me.
Alas I shall be left undead in the nothingness following death for I was living a gradually-evolving-great life.
This only stands as a testament to foreclosure if it shall be so.
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