A Coward’s Life

There are two things that never leave my thoughts: inability and death. The former frightens me most. Everyday, I wake up with thoughts and ideas. Everyday, I create a “To Do” list in my mind, and at the end of each day, several items remain unchecked. Whether I  don’t wash clothes nor make that “oh so” important phone call is in the least disheartening. Those trivial affairs can be put off for another time. What really gnaws at my soul is my inability to positively affect the lives of those I pass by at the Meat Market on Alondra or those who dig divots on the same fields my cleats dug up years back, and this is what empowers the latter. I am not afraid of death. It happens. I am very fortunate to have seen this much of life; however, I feel death coupled with my inability to properly affect live would be a tragedy worth no sorrow. My only fear of death is dying a coward; however, I until I become actively involve in the lives of those who do not yet know my name, I live a coward’s life and I think about death.

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