When I get to the end of my life, hopefully very far from now, I will not look back and think about my job or how much money I made. I will not reminisce about my time spent at my desk doing someone else’s work. I will not take with me the things that I bought, I will not keep the likes I received on Instagram. I will not reflect on the judgment of strangers.

When I get to my last day on this planet, I want to have seen it. Most of us spend our lives, 80-100 years, in relatively the same place. Even if we move, we live in the same place. Different different Starbucks, different gym, different bank, different bar, different school, different job. It’s different, but the same. I want to see the places difficult to reach, the places that are exactly one of a kind. The places that my ancestors might have seen and that my great, great grandchildren might see one day. I want to look back on memories of excitement, risk, and speech-stealing views. And I want to look back on memories with those closest to me. That is all.

But it doesn’t really matter what I want. It is said that we don’t take anything with us when we go. That may be true. But when I go, I want those memories to be hard to let go of. I want a life that is sad to leave, not one I’m content to let go of. I want it to be heartbreaking. Because if it’s heartbreaking, that means I did something right during those years to earn that heartbreak.

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