Life’s a funny thing. We’re born into this world and then we start dying. Everyone says that we’re living but that’s just part of the death process…We grow so much until we begin to decay. Or is growth decay as well? Death is about pain and suffering—if not for yourself, then for those whose lives you’ve touched in some way over the course of time. Mourning happens and eventually time causes memories to fade, but time is relevant, right? Some people never forget details of a person while others cease to remember everything but a simple, singular smell. But everyone mourns—some never stop. We try as hard as we can to stop the dying process or at least postpone it—to ease our own suffering—but is that truly what was intended? To stop death? Is that life’s purpose? Something people don’t realize is that you touch the lives of everyone you come across—they glimpse you even for a second. Everything happens for a reason and it takes an observer to realize this. We as humans like to think we’re in control of everything when we are but only to an extent in control of anything at all. The human condition is that of decadence and self-righteous idealism. We go through life with our id, ego and superego always conflicting because of choice, morality, and want based on primal instincts and what has been taught to us. Depending on our culture, life and death are viewed differently. We go through life taught one idea and that to us is moral and just. Life is like that I guess. Try as we might to change things, life is both static and fluid in itself. People live fearing the unknown until they learn to accept it. By that time they’ve lost the whimsy of a child and grown old. Children are so much more accepting up until a certain age of things that they don’t understand—before they reach the cruel yet curious ages where they taunt things that are different. Humans go through stages—spring, summer, fall, and winter—if they’re lucky. Some never even reach summer, while some test how far winter can go. We’re raised with structure—goals and expectations and schedules—and eventually forget how to just enjoy sitting and watching a sunset or listening to the world. Life drains us. It’s life that scares me to death.
