Gone

It’s always sudden in the end. They are here, then they’re gone. It doesn’t matter why, because it always boils down to “gone.”

I don’t know what happens after death. No one does, despite what they may tell you. If their faith helps them sleep at night, then far be it from me to argue with them. I however, I just don’t know but I think I’ll be back.

I think I’ll always be born Ryan Roberts on August 22, 1978. I think I’ll always make these same basic “choices.” I think I’ll always end up here.

I hope when I see you again, I’m kinder, no matter how we parted last. This time is too short. Fare thee well my friend, until we meet again.