You know, the older I get, the more I start to think about the final end. I know, being 61 isn’t really old, but when you are a fat lazy slob like me with Diabetes, well, 61 seems like being on borrowed time.
Oh I know, it is up to me to drop the excess tonnage, to get the sugar levels under control, but for reason I just can’t seem to follow through ion what I know I should be doing.
I have more excuses of why I am not watching what I eat, and why I am not getting off my fat ass to at least walk a bit and get slowly into some sort of shape,, than there are stars in the sky.
Instead I just seem to wallow in self-pity,m waiting for the end. Before, I believed, thought there was something after one’s mortal life, but now, well, I just don’t know. It all just seems so, I don’t know, useless to hope for something that just is a mere thought, a mere useless hope.
Maybe, before it is too late, I might be able to figure this all out. though I ain’t holding out much hope, I suppose it is worth a try. Maybe talking about on a blog no one reads will help. Who knows, it is better than staring at some stupid screen watching a boring movie, or reading the news.