What difference does it make whether I die now or forty years later? The final destination is the same. You see, actually, the thing is not that. The thing is, we live in a place that teaches you to fear death, just like it teaches you to fear anything unknown. It teaches you that while you’re alive, you know what it is like to be alive. There’s pleasure, there’s pain, but whatever is there, is within your knowledge. Death, on the other hand, signifies darkness: unknown. And living in the cruelest of situations is better than heading towards the darkness of unknown. This is why there are those of us who keep dragging their heavy selves on, day after day, afraid to step over that threshold. It’s not a question of cowardice, not a matter of giving up. It’s just the unconquerable fear of the unknown.
No difference, really, whether I die now or forty years later. A few dreams built, others broken, perhaps. That’s it. Once you cross that threshold, it doesn’t matter which dreams were built and which ones left unfulfilled. Everything dissolves into oblivion as you dissolve into the fabric of everything itself.
But we hang on. Creatures of a blind inertia. Inertia of motion. We are afraid to stop, because we don’t know what it is like to stop. And so we won’t stop, till we are stopped.
If you want more morbid ideas to chew on, call my head. It’s full of ’em these days.