every day we grow closer to our imminent death, every minute that passes only draws us nearer to our own demise; as we grow older, as new experiences are lived, old ones die, so one could say that a bit of us dies every day, are we nothing more then walking corpses? what exactly does it mean to be alive?
today for example I could very well say I don't feel too alive, in fact being dead sounds quite appealing, hypothetically speaking that is, I'm not on a mission of self deliverance, I just want to point out that if I were to die tomorrow, I wouldn't complain, up until that moment I would have lived a good life, to it's fullest no doubt with no regrets of the sort; so I'm at peace with the fact that sooner or later I WILL die. It just hurts when a little of you dies for one reason or another, when a hope or a dream dies, that in my opinion, is more painful then the actual physical death. So one then would conclude, that we are in constant mourning, because we are always dying, even if we are alive, I guess that's part of the process of growing up, we grieve for the loss of the innocence and purity of being a child, and we weep for the people who come and go in our lives, we lament for the lost potential, an idea that doesn't turn out as one would hope.
living is a very difficult task, a gift no doubt, but none the less a strenuous one
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