Pondering on my own mortality...

The death of Stan Lee and an illness that has hit me HARD!! Has made me ponder on my own Mortality.
In the end, I am human, a fallible creature, mortal, with an expiration date is a scary thing... Don't get me wrong, the pestilent breath of the rider of the pale horse is one scary thing, but it's not my time. Not yet. There is too much to see and whine about before I return to the Planet.

The thing is that Stan Lee figured out who he was and carved his name on Destiny. He became The Man, through a lot of sacrifice... Same thing with Elton John, who luckily, is still amomg us. Two men who made it... for every tale of victory, there is a thousand tales of defeat and failure... Now you can see where I'm going with this. Being sick and feeling hopelessness opened my eyes... WHO AM I? I'm an asshole with a blog who whines about toys, videogames, TV shows, and movies. Feels petty and empty in the grand scheme of things, y'know... I have been called "good son", "good brother", "responsible", "the best of friends", among other things... Somehow,  while it's good to be acknowledged, it kinda feels empty... because I have no legacy. I'm not talking about Genetic Legacy, because I refuse to pass on my cursed genes.  I REFUSE to keep the old man's legacy alive. His accursed genetic lineage ENDS WITH ME!!!  (Talk about "daddy issues".) I cannot handle the responsibility of parenthood... and this goes beyond my hangups. I simply can't do it. It's not in my heart.

So, with that road to Legacy shut off, there must be another way. I TRIED becoming a Thespian, which didn't go well. My stutter, nerves, and delusions axed my own dreams if becoming an Actor... It didn't help having a family of Classically trained Thespians who overshadowed any of my attempts. How can a mouse compete against giants? It doesn't help having your psyche destroyed by the person who is supposed to build me up in order to survive in the world.

I kinda see how this could be interpreted as a "Woe is me" pity party. No. This is nothing like that. The issue here is that many of us will NOT achieve "greatness". Many of us will try AND FAIL, but at least we tried. Many if us will not transcend history and turn the hand of fate in our favor. When we die, people will speak of us in past tense... then they will no longer speak of us and we will be forgotten...

That is what I fear, not death, but oblivion. Right now I weep for the forgotten. Not knowing their names, their stories, but knowing well that one day, I WILL BE one of them. That's why I rant. I'm trying to feebly scratch my way on the tides of destiny. When I die, my rants will be a small window into my delirium... a bit if my soul preserved for posterity... a sort of digital ghost who refuses to simply become a memory...


So, yes. As I raise my cup full of medicine, join me to celebrate those untold stories of average Joes and plain Janes who crashed and burned worse than Icarus in their quest for greatness. Not only the winners need to be celebrated. Like Auron would say