Words and their interpretations have meaning. I don’t see the reasoning in saying things that hinder me or cause me to lose faith in myself. I believe we all cohabitat in subjective realities. I tell people I’m living until 150. And I mean it. Everyone else looks at me like I’m strange. How can you live until 150 when the average human lifespan is 80?
Well… You’re still alive so you don’t know how long you could live. And perhaps I don’t consider myself average. In my reality, perhaps I’ll find a fountain of youth or fuse with machines and become a cyborg. When I tell people I’ll be alive until 150, I mean it.