On

One day, I'm going to die. I'm thirteen and I know that I'm going to die. My classmates look at me, and don't understand how I could possibly be so calm about it. 

The truth is, I'm not. I'm scared of what's coming, the inevitable blackness that's on everyone's horizon. I don't know what comes after, whether we even exist after we die. 

All I know is the one day, I'm going to run out of tomorrows and all of my yesterdays won't matter, and every mark I made on history will scar over and fade away, because I was not sharp enough to leave a lasting scar. 

I'll be buried under the weight of time and the skirts of greater people and no one will remember my name. I will vanish into the black air that occupies space, and I will not take up space, simply because I might or might not exist. 

People will tell me that I only get to live once and that might be true, and in the case that it is, WE ONLY GET TO LIVE ONCE. We only get one small generation to exist, to scar the world as much as we can before our own scars fade, taking our tomorrow with it. 

I want to live my once to the fullest, making the most of my small spot in history. I want to be the one to choose when I stop mattering and cease to think and breathe. 

I want to leave my imprint on the world, but my name doesn't matter, and won't ever matter, because history is measured in the bones in the ground and the clouds in the sky. Unless I carve my name in the sun, I will never matter, because when humans don't live anymore, nothing is going to uncover our society and look at my bones and think that I mattered. 

I might leave a small imprint in the human race, but it won't last long. I want to matter, to leave a mark, sure, but the truth is that more often than not, humans leave scars instead of marks, and don't you dare confuse the two. I don't want my name to be a scar, I want it to be a mark that matters - but it won't, because the future will wipe us all out and erase the work of us all. 

Newton won't matter and Shakespeare will be something that no one even knows about and Einstein will cease to matter. 

One day, I'm going to die, and it's not that I don't care or that I hate this life or that I'm not afraid. I'm just moving on, because to the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure, and perhaps the next great adventure will offer me a train and I'll board it and go on.