I’m a silly goose (even though I’m not quite sure why that bird got crippled with such a characterization).
I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but often I will be sitting alone and suddenly be overwhelmed with the remorse that will be felt by those around me at my passing.
I don’t know why I feel the right to project on them such a breakdown–but tears come to my eyes as I imagine them weeping over my demise.
Honestly, I cannot say that I get nearly as worked up about considering the death of another.
No, it is the absence of me on the planet that bereaves me.
I can’t imagine an Earth without my charming personality.
I’m reluctant to write this article, but having a certain anonymity due to the expansiveness of the Internet and my own obscurity … I assume I am fairly safe in maintaining this secret devotion to my own mortality.