Read my eulogy exactly how it is

I’m pretty sure you’re looking at this post and thinking, “are you on anti-depressants?”
No. I’m not.
Writing a eulogy before you’re dead just seems like a very thought-provoking task. I mean, somebody’s gotta do it, why not you? Since you’ll be the dearly departed.
And how mind bending is it to really accept that one day you’re going to die?


As you can see, I am dead. 
And you are crying. But I’m not, so you shouldn’t be.
I didn’t expect to write my own eulogy, but when I got the idea, I figured it would be a pretty cool idea to beat someone to the punch before they fail to capture who I am in the justice of their headlights. 
Anyone who knows (or knew) me, could count on my lack of ever being awake. 
Yes, that kind of awake. I adored the act of sleeping.
As well as eating, reading, drinking, showering, loving and helping. 
Savory, delectable stuffed mushrooms from Outback Steakhouse were my favorite. And chocolate. Lots of chocolate. 
Articles, lots of articles about spiritual knowledge and brain functions. Try reading “The Medium” by C.J. Archer. It’s quite interesting. (Not to mention my stories, *wink, wink*)
Blue moon and orange juice.
Showers. Enough said.
Lots of sweet, love making. 
Putting my energy into the organizations that I’ve created to help benefit and help those who are in poverty, suffering to survive, had been by far one of my greatest accomplishments.

Yeah. It sucks that I’m gone. But, I’m sure I’m gathering much more than I could ever had I been alive.
To my parents, don’t cling onto my clothes or my lava lamp; let it go and give it away to people who would need it.
To my siblings, it was an honor to have known you three maniacs.
To my lover, you and I aren’t ever going to be finished.
To my friends, love each other, as Jesus H. Christ would say and stop complaining about your problems; do something about it.
My readers, you were my family as well; you saw me through my writing and I love you for that.

Finish crying here and take the party from zero to one hundred; get drunk, dance, and listen to Bob Marley. Do it, in my honor. 

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