dying wish

My friend’s cousin passed away recently from leukemia. He had a will for his family members.

A few thousands when to this person. Another few thousands went to another.

There was a catch to the money given – a dying wish you may call it. The money is to be used for specific things.

“Bitches and beers.” (Fuck political correctness for a minute here.)

What character. His last dying wish is for his family to just fucking enjoy life.

The anecdote came when my friend noticed that I looked stressed and worried for far too long than I needed to. He was right.

I worry a lot – how to make more money, how to get more friends, how to impress more people, how to achieve financial freedom…

The list is endless. Wants, wants, and more wants.

Where was the gratitude? I had none. My life was a barren wasteland, devoid of the lush green trees of life called gratitude.

I had a reality check. Why am I so stressed?

I’m doing great work for my jobs. I’m at one of the most profitable restaurants in the greatest city in the world.

What is there to complain about?

Thank you my buddy’s cousin. Your death was not in vain.

To bitches and beers.