In reality, NOTHING! I've done things and experienced things that can't be done again until this era is dead in the water. A lot of them were good, a lot of them were frowned upon by both society and law, and some of them were quite citable. Today, you'd be incarcerated for what was citable in the 1980s. Because of the life I've chosen and the philosophies I adhere to, my life is quite enviable by most; including some who make six figure salaries. (I'm poverty level in salary, but my expenses are low; so I don't have to go into debt. I'm marginally over breaking even, and most of that gets given away.)
Yet still I bitch like I'm serving a life sentence. That's 'cause I feel I am. Bein' an NDE is really a double edged sword, but at least I know I have something to look forward to; and it's waaaaaaaaaay better than this:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-wEOUb1RkF0
Though the film does have a sweet ending. It's so weird knowing too much, yet not enough. Just being fed what you NEED to know on a need to know basis, but not what you want to know; since that would make you too dangerous.
Confession. Only about five outta my almost fifty nine years were HELL, but even those years had good points thanks to the vast mountain forest beyond the back yard of the second house I lived in, during the years in NJ. The divided fields of the first house I lived in wasn't bad, either. Free raspberries and blackberries growin' in the back years the first house, and blackberries and crabapples in the second house. The trip to NC during a couple of visits to the NC boonies was alright, too. The abuse from that psycho set of parents was over, and I got my revenge on steroids big time during both those visits; though the second visit was only with my detested incubator since she got divorced from that host to get another host who made even more. My, what foxy chicks can do with their looks. She was beautiful on the outside, but she could make Cruella De Vil look like Donna Reed.
Now I gotta go a mile to hike through the woods, and I gotta stick to the trail. These days, you're also playin' with you life if you hit those trails at the wrong time.
I miss a lot about the boonies of the past. The fireflies, the crickets, the tree frogs, the lack of car noise, wading in the stream at the bottom of the mountain, and my psychotic crotchdroppinghood hunts for unicorns, gryphons, centaurs, flying horses, and what ever. Never found one, but my hope never died.
