There was a night in college when I took one, maybe two, maybe ten too many vodka shots, and woke up the next morning not remembering how I got back to my room or why I was covered in profanity and what one might consider to be the classical depiction of the male genitalia. Believing that I had come close to death, I had a thought, just a fleeting one, to create a last testament of sorts. I wanted to leave my mark on the world, an account of my numerous life endeavors and my few triumphs. Just in case.
No one really considers what their life might have to offer at this stage, but no teenage college student ever really considers death either. The inherent ignorance and invincibility of youth, always living like there is no tomorrow, never considering that there might actually not be. I, being very pretentious myself, thought that I had reached an epiphany of sorts. By documenting my youth I was going to somehow be better than everyone else. How typical.
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