bring out your dead

'A' gave me this plant. She paid $2. It's dying now.

When you're in your twenties the way you dwell on death is abstract and romantic and total bullshit. It's not until your thirties - when the headaches and stomachaches and backaches and variously charming breakdowns start to follow you around (home from work, out to the pub, into bed at night) - that you really start to get a taste for it.