This life is a dream, as Shakespeare says. I think the saddest part about dying is that you lose your memories. Memories are like wings: they keep you flying, like a bird on the wind. If I’m lucky enough, if I get to heaven perhaps I’ll get to reunite with my mother there. All I want is the chance to walk up to her, look in her eyes, and simply say, “Hey, Ma, see what happened to me?”
im going to explode
