Around 2002.

I'm at work. I'm sitting in my office. It's the middle of July. I'm on my lunch break.

I feel odd today. Kind of apprehensive. Sort of depressed and weird. My cousin was convicted of 3 counts of brutal rape recently, I'm told. We grew up together. We rode bikes and raced our turtles. I guess he just lost his mind. Went too far. He became an animal. Or something. Who knows?
But, that's not it. I've been facing my own mortality. Every time I feel my heart failing I wonder: is this it? I know very well that one day it will be.
I want, desperately, to accomplish something before I go. I don't know why.
The sanctity of life has become very clear to me. It's all we have.

I've moved to the break room table. Man, it's hot in here! I'm wondering if I should formalize these entries - add dates and names, etc. If it's read after I'm dead, it won't matter what I say about anyone, will it?