Life is too short to wear boring clothes.
It’s too short to drink bad wine, and not climb that mountain.
Life is too short to not buy the shoes, and not go out to dine.
Yes, life is indeed too short.
It doesn’t matter if you have 80 years or 25.
Life is never long enough to do the things you want, to see all the places on a list, to spend time with those you love.
Life is full of demands, of options, of challenges.
To know more, study more, make more, to succeed.
Yet, it is too short to accomplish it all. To get where we want to get, to love how we want to love, to fulfill the dreams that have haunted us since we could walk.
There are moments when I think that it’s just me.
That I don’t have enough time. But it isn’t.
The world doesn’t have enough time, and of all the disagreements and all the wars we can agree that we’re always running out of time.
As if some god had planned it so, that feeling that we’re so close and yet so far. The knowledge that we can’t buy time, we don’t have life granted, we could die tomorrow without having seen the mountains, without having harvested a grape, without having kissed your grandchildren.
We could die 50 years from now and it would still be the same list of unfinished wishes, dusting in a corner desk.
We could have worked too much or not enough, yet we never have enough, we never accomplish enough, we never really succeed to the measure we wanted.
Life is too short to not have champagne on a Wednesday.
It is too short to not look down from the Eiffel Tower, to not see the sunrise over the ocean.
It is too short to not have your name printed somewhere, and to not hear someone call you Mother.
Yes, life is too short.
It’s not a question.
No, it will never be enough, our wishes are like math equations, infinite number of possibilities.
It is like a bad map, where the roads can lead to nowhere, even if we make it to our destination.
Yes, it beautiful, that is also not a question.
The moment right before you kiss someone you love, the heat of the sun over your face.
The first sip of wine, the last chocolate from the box.
The lights over the Atlantic from high above the sky.
Yes, they create memories that last forever.
Our forever, the one that is too short.
Winter is never long enough, and neither is summer and we don’t know which we like best, and we bore easily of both.
Perhaps that is why our life is short. So we don’t bore of it.
So we always know in the back of our mind, that this, right now, could be the last moment.
That this could be the last time we smile upon a stranger, that we embrace a friend.
It could be the last sentence you read, and the last you write.
We don’t stay on, because even if we’re legends we can’t do anything else.
The book closes and whatever you believe happens next is not of our concern.
Life is too short to hold grudges, to panic.
Life is too short to not take chances, to not see the snow.
Life is too short to not take flights on a whim and not speak your mind.
Yes, it is too short indeed.