Sometimes I wonder when? When will I abstractly enjoy my life...like the people in beer commercials? When I get drunk I just complain. There are a number of days that I will be on the earth drawing breath. Just because I don't know the number doesn't make it any less real. When will I slow down and just enjoy my one shot on this planet? If not now, when?

I'm sure it must be hard to work for minimum wage once you've seen the face of God, heh? But you've got to realize that for yourself. A shake-up. A reason to peel that layer off the eyes.

They say there may be others but you'll never forget your first...heart attack. After my first, I bet life will be better. I'll give classical music the chance it deserves. I'll visit my parents more. Listen to a children's choir. Talk to a man selling balloons. When I'm introduced to people I'll actually LISTEN to their names. I'll read book not just magazines. I'll be a changed man. When my heart attack comes.

Some nights I look up at the sky, or where I think the sky might be through the ceiling. And I listen really hard to the beating of my heart and I wonder, "When?" "When is my friend coming?" Just the thought of it can make my heart beat faster taking me closer to that glorious plateau.

It could begin with a nice tingling in my arm, sort of like a cute puppy licking it from the inside. And I'll say to myself, "Is it? Is it? YES, it is."

I'll know because of the golden glow coming from inside my chest that lights up the room in a way that I've never seen it before. Then all at once, an opening and a rush of adrenaline will come crashing through my veins, as if all the coffee I've ever drunk in my life is coming back to get me. And with it, all my life will come crashing through my head. The people I've forgotten about, me as a hopeful sand eating six-year old in a terrycloth beach outfit, the yard I cut through, that look in HER eyes, everthing dumb or smart I ever said distilled into one precise sentence. Every mystery in my life will be cleared up, then, just as quickly, collapse. I'll be free. I'll pick up the phone and say, "It's here! It's here!" Tears of joy will stream down my face as I dial 911, I'm ready. It's here! If I get through this, I can really begin to live.