How will I die?

Although I am only at the tender age of 21, I am in the twilight years of my life. I’ve said this before: I have max 3 years to live. The bright light is in right in front of me. The grim reaper is my wingman. No one can sustain this lifestyle and make it past 23. The four loko fast life is a beautiful tragedy that will end with absolute certainty. But I look back to what the late James Dean once said: “Live fast, die young, and leave a low key thiccc corpse.” And that is what I plan to do. As I come to terms with the fact that my body is slowly shutting down with every Hotpocket that enters me, there is only one question left. How will I die? I have cut down the possibilities to 3. Lets explore

I get assassinated 

I would love to be assassinated. People don’t assassinate nobodies. If someone were to assassinated me, I would take it as the biggest compliment. I also need it to be on live TV. CNN would be dripping with ratings.

Unrelated: I have a midterm later today, and do not want to take it. I will be wearing a bright colored shirt and there are many tall buildings on my way to class. I’m not saying its the perfect time to assassinate me, or that I’m putting myself on a platter for someone, but I also would not hate not being alive for my Investments midterm today.  Aim small miss small.

My Jackhammer Mentality gets the best of me

This is probably more realistic. The person with the best chance of destroying me is myself. I never stop not stopping. Head is always on a swivel. Always looking for value where no one else does. Buying low, selling high. Chasing alpha while being alpha. Its absolutely exhausting being a human jackhammer. It can’t go on much longer. There’s not much left in the tank. I’m on fumes. I try to keep my self fueled, but Dominoes can only push out cheesy bread so fast. They’re people too. I think what will eventually will happen is my jackhammer mentality will run out and someone will take me out while I’m vulnerable. Unless I take them out first.

Diabetes/Heart Failure/Obesity

Everyone knows my body is my temple, and that I treat it as such. The legs feed the wolves. I carbo-load like a motherfucker. And while the carbs give me the energy that I need to survive on a daily basis, they come at a heavy cost. At this point my blood is marinara sauce. I piss jungle juice. Wake up in the middle of the night with meat sweats you wouldn’t dare to imagine. Its hell but I wouldn’t want it any other way. Bury me inside Beta Burger. Carry my corpse past Qdoba. Spread my ashes throughout 5 guys (that came out weird). Put my prayer card on the back of a dunkin donuts rewards card. Just never forget me. See you on the other side.

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