But papa I need it

Between climate collapse, AI doom, and the spectre of fascism looming over us all, I couldn't help but wonder, what motivation is there to be "healthy" anymore? Call me a pessimist- personally I would consider it realism, but I'm too bored to be pedantic- but I can't seem to wrap my head around the concept of longevity when I'm not even able to project myself 5 years into the future, let alone 30. The endtimes are weird.

I "quit" smoking 4 months ago but last week I bought a pack- I couldn't stop thinking about it and obsession doesn't disappear unless I do something about it. As I always say, I have trouble denying myself the things that bring me pleasure- and I am pretty sure I've never not pursued something (or someone) that I violently wanted, or rather, "needed". When I was a little girl I always phrased it this way, it was never "I want", always "I need"- there was no differentiation. So I needed them, so I got them, and even though I can feel my taste buds dying and I hack up nasty yellow shit every morning like a trailer-park queen, I can't quite seem to find a good reason to stop again.

And like our beloved-yet-hated, obsessive, cigarette-smoking icon Carrie Bradshaw - "I called Big". Yes, I know, and I don't care.

Alternatively, you could say it's more like the last scene in Daisy Jones & the Six- Emile knocked on the door, and I opened it. As if there was any other option. As if there's any timeline where I wouldn't.

Don't feel "sorry" for me, or judge me, or otherwise diminish in any way my agency. As I told him last weekend- "I have trouble denying myself that which brings me pleasure" - that's Jane Austen for "with complete knowledge of the consequences of my action, and full consent, I make choices that others will judge me for, because life is short". Or maybe I have no self-control. Or at least, lacking some part of the self-preservation mechanism. But I have trouble understanding what I would be "preserving" myself for (as previously stated, it's not looking great out there fellas).

So I choose complicated and messy and exciting and maybe-bad-for-me-but-who-knows. I certainly choose life, it just means something different- I choose to live, really truly live. And that invariably means taking the risk, making the choice that makes my heart race- if the outcome is 50/50 or entirely unknowable, all the better.