Inspired by WP Prompt: Write a Letter to your 100 year old self.

Forty years from now, will I be 100 years old?

Or will I be a box of bones

or a jar full of ash

taking up space that nobody wanted?

Will my name matter, will the time I made people angry or happy matter?

The truth is:

When I am 100 years old, and I am NOT a box of bones or a jar full of ash

I hope that none of that matters to me anymore.

Artist Unknown