What if I was dying?

Dear Universe,

What if I was dying?

I was inspecting the ever-increasing number of “strawberries” (hemangiomas?) developing on the skin on my stomach this morning, which led me to the very rational conclusion that surely I must be dying (despite my Google doctor assuring me they aren’t anything to worry about).

This realization of my obviously impending doom led to a thinking spiral which ultimately culminated in pondering what I would want to do with my remaining time on Earth should this be it.

And my answer was: this.

I would want to spend the rest of my days leaving words for the people I love most.

I would want them to learn what I’ve learned and see what I’ve seen. I would want them to live the rest of their lives carrying with them what little bit of wisdom I can share. I would want them to move through the world with whatever fractal of hope and faith and truth I could bestow upon them.

I don’t need to experience anything else. I don’t need to travel. I don’t need to jump out of a plane. I don’t even need to be loved more than I have been.

There wouldn’t be anything left I’d want to take. All I’d want to do with the rest of my time is to give the rest of me away before I’m gone.

Now to be clear, Universe, I’m not ready to die. This is not a manifestation of my deathbed!

But maybe there was something worth remembering inside my red-dotted death spiral. Memento mori, memento vivere and whatnot. Technically we are all dying all the time and maybe it wouldn’t hurt to consider living more accordingly.

I want to, anyway. I want to spend my time while I’m here doing what I would want to do if I was watching the clock tick away above my head.

And yeah, that probably means brain-barfing out all of these crazy philosophies that I hope can help the people I care about move through life’s uncertainty with a looser grip and a lot more joy.

That may not be the most exciting imaginary bucket list, but there’s something kind of cool about realizing I’m already doing the thing I’d want to do if I was dying. Maybe I’m crossing something off the bucket list. Spilling the bucket? Taking the list out of the bucket? I don’t know – whatever the hell you’re supposed to do with that metaphor.

Anyway – cheers to all the heartbeats left underneath strawberry-speckled skin, Universe. May we use each one to live as if we were dying.

XO – Bailee

September 28, 2026