Illness has a talent for keeping people in perspective. At least it keeps me in perspective, hehe. You could be the hardest, meanest gangsta in Compton or the most badass Navy Seal ever to grace the US, but when it comes to those little microbes floating around, you’re just a little bitch. Seriously, it’s such a disappointing fact of life that you can have your ass handed to you by some piece of DNA or RNA. Oh well. And this brings up another issue: you can get it anytime.
At any point in time, you can get infected by a random piece of protein and you are kaput. What that means is that you can have all of these things in the world to say to the people most precious to you and they won’t even matter anymore because you’re dead. You could have the greatest things to help make people happy, but they can go. At any moment in time. It’s just something to think about. Chew it over. I know I have. I’m not really sure what I should do after having thought about this, but maybe I should find the answer soon.