Tuesday, 21 January 2014

Fearing Death

My whole life, I've always had a fear of death. A day, where you cease to exist. People cannot say "hi" anymore. The once mundane activities do not matter to anyone. The days of depression, the days of happiness, and the days of grieving do not exist anymore. You no long wear these days on you like a heavy fur coat. Everything simply: is.

There is a certain level of empathy that comes with fears in general. I have a moderate fear of heights, I fear flying because I don't know if the mechanic who worked on the plane was a coffee short. I fear spiders that can kill me. I'm pretty sure I'd fear a snake if I saw one.

Fears are simple at face value, they are truly complex when you get down to it. They are mostly irrational, they are pointless, and often easy to overcome. Fears influence everyday life.

When my grandpa died it put a new perspective on life and death for me. 

Life is lived, it should be lived fruitfully and most rewarding. It should contain love, fun and excitement (and probably sex). Not everyone gets the same deal. Some people go through pain no one should have to. Those people experience humility, they know when life is good and when life is shit. 

Death is a celebration of life. Death is succinct. Death is final. Death is beautiful. It is the end, of a journey. Every fight, every grudge, every word is done. You no longer have to fight. No longer have to argue. 

It is things like that, that keep me living. Why end it early? I still have a lot to experience.

Fearing death does not keep you alive. It keeps you unaware. The true beauty of life is that there is a beginning, shitty middle, and end.

It is up to you what you do with it.

Regards,

Devon.

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