I want life in every word to the extent that its absurd

I'm somewhat obsessed with dying. I don't mean afraid of dying. What I think concerns me the most is the mess I'll leave behind. I think of all the little things I've left undone and I don't mean finishing up school or stories even. Sure I worry slightly about the state of my physical affairs and what sort of impression or responsibilities I'll be leaving for others, although I tend to think that my friends and family will not be too concerned with my dirty dishes or messy apartment. I worry about Luna. She's probably the only one that actually needs me and though I know someone would take care of her very well, I still think she'd be the one to notice me being gone the most.

Mostly I worry about the relationships where I've said or done too little, despite always wanting or intending to do more. I'm afraid of being gone and unable to reassure my friends and family that I always noticed the little things they did for me and that I was always thankful for them being in my life. I don't mean to go down this path with the intention of letting my life feel like a shadow is closing in on it, but rather as a means of encouragement; to encourage myself to be more proactive in all of my relationships and life in general. I don't want anyone to need to question how I'm feeling or whether or not I'll be there for them tomorrow, next week or next year.

Lately some of the more important relationships have been a struggle to maintain. I'm weary from the emotional strain and at times wonder whether I have anything left to give. Part of me feels broken. And yet, when I feel that my heart is no longer salvageable is when there's that little breath of air, a respite. As time goes by, I grow more attached to The Dark Knight's Harvey Dent (and will probably find a way to include TDK in my posts for a long while) and his philosophy towards life. "I make my own luck," he says. I believe in that. My supply of determination and constancy is endless because I choose it to be. In a way, that's reassuring. Not that there aren't other reassurances. Faint, but still tangible. I can believe in that.