Mortality

For no particular reason, beyond a few documentaries I've watched recently and a family this afternoon who were fairly obviously in the pub after they'd been to a funeral, black ties et al, I've been considered my own mortality. It's not that I'm expecting to keel over imminently - my health, for the most part, is no worse than it was two years ago, apart from the fact that I can't speak and write in a way that I would want - but there's little doubt, barring accidents, that I'm the next member of my family who will be pushing up the daisies. If I could write my own obituary, what would I say? If was being honest, I've wasted my chance, or chances - I haven't used my intellectual abilities to best advantage, however I might want to claim that I my choices were determined by working in an industry I enjoyed, mostly, I haven't looked after my health properly, especially in terms of my use of alcohol (I'm blogging in the pub, FFS), but, most of all, I haven't been myself, for the last 45 years and more. I could say I'm bisexual, but, realistically, I've always been more interested, by 70/30, even 80/20, in boys rather than girls. And boys, specifically predominantly pubescent boys, have been my downfall, my joy (albeit I've never had a boy of my own) and my despair. When the curtain falls, if I'm lucky (or unlucky) to reflect on my life consciously, I know that there will be a huge hole in my heart where a boy should have been.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B