Of Life, Death and Fear

“I believe that every single human should believe in dying without having any fears. Now, people would be taking me the wrong way, but trust me I am not talking in a religious sense. I just simply believe that fear quenches joy. It is the basis of hate, resentment, and fury. So whenever anyone of you are going through these states, ask yourself, “What am I afraid of?”. Most of us would bicker that we are preset with the fright response to keep us attentive and lively. What is the purpose of our life? So we can lament our past, fret about our present, and dread our future? But in all actuality, the past, present, and future ram when we die. I decide to die thrilled.

Dedication is commendable, fixation is not. What we believe to be light is merely the shadow of the sun. People usually question my indifference. But never to my face.”

He watched as the pour begins to decelerate. As the congealing begins and as the curing is ignited. Slitting should now be a shame. But it is all that made sense those days. Anything to stay happy. Less and less comes out from the cut. Maybe his sustenance was lessening. He has to rely on deliberation. But sleep was not a console he could dare gamble upon. His dreams were too real. Slowly, he kept loosing hold of actuality. He had to stay awake to make sure everything is fine. His eyelids kept getting heavy, he wanted to sleep. But he did not think a night’s sleep was what he needed.

An eternal sleep filled with all one could want. Or in this case, everything he could want. For that matter, a sheet, a pillow, and her in his arms.

He was about to surrender, when abruptly he had an idea. Was it his messiah or his salvation?

He lifted his hand up and with the last of his vanishing potency, he wrote his name in the blood. It is all so clear now. He did so, so that when he would be found, they would know what name to put on the grave. He shall not be forgotten.

He smiled and took his last breath for the day. He would breathe once again the next day. “Shut down my casket. Darkness shall win”.

At last.. the darkness wins.

But even with his eyes shut tight, he can not ignore the drops. They kept on falling. Simultaneous and connected. One tributary of discretion. One falling right after the other to join in. In the pond of red on the ground, where he once rested. Now he stood and looked down at the same place.

And in this way, life goes on around him, whirling, flowing. Does he think about all that he keeps on missing when he blinks? If not, unfortunately, he might as well set his eyes to rest for good.

Tags: Life, Ramblings

Category: Ramblings