An Amused Spectator

 "A man who's become an amused spectator at the dissolution of his own life. His face filled with a merry, self-ironic glow."

From Cadillac Jukebox, by James Lee Burke

Gee whiz, I hope this isn't me.

I've been thinking lately that I am treating death as I have treated life. At some point, my life became an ironic joke to me. So far removed from what I wanted it to be, that I became detached from it. Watching it from afar with a bemused expression on my face. A bemused sensation in my soul.

Now I am close to death. I am afraid. But not afraid enough to begin moving at faster miles an hour. To save my life.

My fat, old-man legs should be churning like those of Usain Bolt, racing to make something of my life before death makes nothing of me.

But it ain't happening. I am running in place.

Sometimes I get a sharp pain in my chest and I sit and wait to see if this is it. I don't think that qualifies as someone who is rabidly motivated to succeed at something - anything - before he dies.

Even death is becoming an ironic joke to me.

2022 has made me very tired.