The pangs are undeniable, clear and sharp, through the night. Ouch. These willow fools, these fearful babes, these inept minds. Manipulated, wrapped in virtue, and secured with a ribbon of righteousness. It will be sad for them.
But sad don't matter, it will be relief, it will be a new kind of despair. People are dying daily, all will be reminded, as if graveyards never existed or people are oblivious to our one shared fate. And it is a good fate indeed, for heaven is badass, no pain management required, no hearts to break, no thoughts to haunt, no souls to crush. But that's for the immortals to sort out and anticipate, the mortals can chill out, kick back, and jam. Like coyotes.
The feeble should realize their feebleness. Canes are cheap and stylish, walking sticks are abundant, grab the handles, wear appropriate shoes, prevent. Thankfully for now, these are only my observations, but I'm gonna be an early cane adopter in 2045 or so, God willing. A stubborn delayed cane adoption seems risky. Good thing a bicycle can be ridden way past feebleness, especially the electric.