Poor thing. Poor thing. Do you have a sister?

I suppose it’s just a fact of life, but it’s occurred to me how through the years, little by little, many of the people I’d gladly have died for have gone ahead and died.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I ended up not having to die for them and all, but it’s a harsh realization all the same. Especially in light of the fact that they’ve not been replaced by anyone. The list, which at one time was populated by quite a few individuals (and even some pets when I was younger—don’t laugh, my overactive childhood imagination actually dreamt up situations in which that might be necessary) has shrunk to a mere handful (I won’t list them here—don’t want to inadvertently insult anyone).

Guess that’s because as most people approach the stage of life I’m in, the list of people whose lives they’re so wrapped up in that they’d gladly give their own should those lives be threatened, starts to shift from those who came before (i.e. those who produced them or had some role in their production and upbringing) to those that come after (that they themselves produce or bind themselves to). And since I have no plans to (voluntarily) spawn any offspring nor immediately bind myself to any other human being, well then I guess that leaves me right about where I am.

And that’s where the seemingly selfless concept of giving your life for another reveals itself as also inherently selfish. For the unspoken assumption is that those for whom you would willingly lay down your life would also do the same for you, should those unfortunate roles be reversed. And so when you realize that you’re not gonna be doing that for anyone anytime soon, well hell, that probably means that no one’s gonna be doing that for you, either. You’re on your own, buddy. Careful out there with your back all exposed and un-got.

But on the other hand, the fewer people around that you might have to die for, the more you can go ahead and live for yourself.