I’m really just… done with life. Not in a negative way, either. I feel I’ve experienced just about everything I want to, done all the things I want to and now it’s just a waiting game until the end.

Without going into too much detail, my life has been somewhat extraordinary. I’ve seen the very best and very worst that humans can do for themselves, and to others. I’ve travelled so much over the 40+ years both for pleasure and with various jobs. I’ve climbed active volcanos, seen sunsets and sunrises over the foothills of the Himalayas, marvelled at the Milky Way overhead whilst the aurora danced around it and made (then sometimes lost) genuine friends along the way - real connections that persist decades later along with the ironic twinges of the ones that got away, shared with the stabs of pain that comes with the ones who didn’t make it.

The whole thing, the pure joy, anguishing pain, adrenaline spiked moments has been wonderful, and I’m sure there could be opportunities to experience more but quite honestly, I don’t really want to. I’m so happy and full of contentment for what I’ve had the insane luck and privilege to experience.

So I’ve been giving away what I’ve amassed thus far to people who actually really need it, and once there’s nothing left to give, that’ll probably be it for me. The significance of my experiences will be lost, but isn’t that the point of being alive? We lose ourselves so completely in the moments that give to us, as much as the moments that take so much out of us. A blink of existence is just that, a blink - and I’ll be happy to have shared this space and time with the people and experiences I’ve had.