If you don’t, no need to reply telling me you don’t. I live in the woods with some critters. I live pretty far from neighbors/police so having a gun gives me peace of mind. I also hunt and consider myself a gun hobbiest. I enjoy shooting targets, cleaning/organizing, reloading and earning food with guns.
Everyone has a plan when a plan’s not needed.
I don’t like thinking about this stuff but as the world gets more and more crazy, the more I plan. Over the years, I consciously kept good maintenance of my truck, keep it full of fuel at all times and make sure it’s ready when I need it. I also bought a shot gun and hope to get a rifle in the future. I’ve also kept track of my tools and equipment and I have a mental list of everything I would need to pack up to live in the wilderness on my own and abandon everything else if the need arises.
I am married but my wife is ill and we are both older. So my thought is that she’ll be gone soon (or will be gone if the world does end) and I’ll be on my own.
Sorry about your wife. I lost mine April 18th 2024 in a house fire I walked away from. I couldn’t save her or her dad or our cats. My worries and plans failed me. Completely. I get where you’re coming from and hope you find some peace one day.
That’s a horrible story … my condolences to you and your family.
There is always peace in the end. I’m not fatalistic or nihilistic, I plan on just lasting as long as possible just to spite eternity. Personally, I’ve always enjoyed this poem by Dylan Thomas and as I grow older, the more I understand and appreciate it.
Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night
By Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46569/do-not-go-gentle-into-that-good-night