I don’t want to die young…
But I don’t want to die old, either.
I have Peter Pan complex. If I could become Peter Pan and the
world could become my NeverNeverland, I would gladly embrace the
opportunity.
As scary as dying sounds, it seems like dying young holds so much more
glory than dying old. I mean, look at Kurt Cobain… Aaliyah…
even Left Eye. It seems like if you die young, the mistakes you
make through life become badges of honor, instead of stains on your
distant past.
I had a friend in 8th grade that told me that he didn’t plan on living
past 25, because if he didn’t make anything of himself by 25 he’d want
to die, and if he did make anything of himself he’d want to die so that
he would make a point. (I hung out with a morbid bunch back
then.) At the time, it seemed kind of like an appealing idea.
That thought has always stayed with me because I have it written down in one of my journals.
I’m 22 now, and 25 seems to be looming really close.
I wonder how I’ll feel about being old then?
Do you think it’s better to die young in glory or die old quietly?