I'm 31 today.

I can't believe that 31 years have already gone by. I think about all of the things I've done so far and all of the places I've been, and it makes me think of all of the things I haven't yet done and all of the places I haven't yet been. I wonder when the day comes that we look at our lives and sit back, contented that we've done enough and seen enough. Is there such a day? Do people really hope for that day?

I never want to discover that day downstairs waiting for me – sitting back in an overstuffed leather chair – smiling at me and telling me that it's about time I showed up. I won't come.

I've heard that day is patient and that it's lazy, that it's bitter and pursed - that it will wait for me, that it won't threaten me, but that it will tempt me. No, I won't come. It will have to catch me if it wants me. It will have to get up out of that chair and chase me down because I won't come.

I've heard that it will call to me and sing to me of peace in rest and rest in peace. It will promise me time and eternity and comfort and no pain, but I won't come. I am insubordinate and cocky and sarcastic and good at exhausting patience, and I will challenge that day because it is everything that I don't want to be and that is why I am what I am, and why I can't come.

But it will not understand all of this because it is a stupid day. It is a cowardly day that is afraid of the rain and the heat of the sun and the cold of the snow and the sting of the wind. It is afraid of the waves and the navy depths and the crashes and the bloody knees from the very hard trees. It is an ignorant day and it wants me but I won't come.

It resents me and waits for me. It doesn't care to exert itself for me. It wants me easily and effortlessly and this offends me and angers me. And for this, and a million other reasons I won't come.

But I'm made of devils on some days and on these days I can't hold my tongue, and if I can't say something nice I will say anything at all. I will taunt that day and provoke that day until it can't stand it anymore that I won't come.

…try to chase me…dare to race me… you can't have me… come and get me…

And when it rises up I will swim even stronger and run even faster, pedal to the top of ten mountains of disaster, and it will have to fly if it wants me because I won't come.

I'm 31 today.