I’m pretty sure I’m going to die today.
Well not TODAY today.
But January 25th.
I don’t know why. All I know is that every year on January 25th for AT LEAST the past ten years, I get this overwhelming feeling that I have to be somewhere. Or that I am forgetting something. Or that this day holds some sort of significance.
But it doesn’t. No family or close friends’ birthdays. No anniversaries of note. Nothing especially spectacular or memorable has ever happened to me on this date in the past.
Yet once again this morning I saw the date and got that same feeling. And I can’t explain it.
So my guess? This very well could be the day that I kick the bucket. Sure, its kinda morbid. But we will all have a second date on our headstone. You’ve lived that day every single year since you were born and unlike your birthday there is no celebration. No way of knowing that that particular day would be one of the two most significant dates of your entire existence.
But maybe I’m different. Because something tells me that 1/25 will be my day. Chances are I’ll never know for sure.
But it is certainly a weird and interesting feeling.
