Death and All His Friends

Whenever I read something written by someone who is terminally ill, I realize how much I don't want to die, and I wonder if one day, I'll be able to, or if I'll even get a chance to. I don't think I'll be the kind of person who looks back at a fulfilling life and smilingly waves goodbye. I won't be like the 9th Doctor, who bittersweetly said, "You were fantastic, and you know what? So was I," before orange light shot off from his head and hands. I'll be like the 10th Doctor, who desperately said, "I don't want to go," as his epic yet sad farewell song, Vale Decem played, before that same orange light shot off much more violently, terribly destroying his TARDIS. That's going to be me unless scientists hurry up and figure out how to upload dying people's consciousnesses onto the internet. It'll be weird if they do, though, because e-me will remember my whole life, up until the date they upload me, and then normal me will die and feel the same way, even though e-me will not experience the death. Also, not having a body would be weird, so we also need surrogate bodies. To avoid overpopulation, we should go to an uninhabitable planet, since we don't need to breath anyway, and can be constructed to fit any environment. Bye!

Why is this here?

I have started blogs in the past and then gone on to delete them, since nobody reads them, but then I realized that even though I never want to write full blog posts, I really like to vent about bloggy things that I really shouldn't post on Facebook or Twitter (not that they're under 140 characters), so I'll put them here. Some will definitely be as short as this, or at least close. Bye!