Sometimes I feel the need to record my thoughts.
In case I get shot, or something.
If today was my last.
And someone, probably my wife,
would take a look back at what I left.
And there's something cold about an existence,
where you feel endangered to leave nothing recent behind.
As if you never existed.
Or as if your existence in most recent times
was not remarkable enough to leave any marks behind.
Then there's the unsettled realization
that this could be it.
What if this is what I leave behind?
It's not even good.
And then I remember I don't want to die.
And I hope I don't, because for the same drive in my recording,
also exists in my climbing, of where I hope to be, a long long way from today.
But if I never make my climb, at least no one will be able to say I didn't try.
