It’s strange to think how casual and accepting some of us are about death. It’s become so consistent now as we get older that it’s accustomed to us and fairly familiar, yet it’s such a drastic change. You are here, living, and then you just go. Every single thing you’ve done in life is gone. Every single thing you planned, all your ideas, all your memories, all your goals and ambitions, everything you worked up to be and do and all the stress and worries, or every single time you spoke -is gone. But it’s nature and it’s inevitable. We all worry sometimes about it, but why worry if it’s going to be all gone when you die? We sort of have it pretty damn shitty. At least I think so. We play it cool, though, because it’s all we have and without any of this we’re nothing. If some of us were never born, aren’t we technically just dead? You’re still non-existent, right? I mean, I don’t believe in heaven or hell, but of course I’d love to go to heaven, who wouldn’t want to? But that’s not reality. We all want to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die. We ask too many questions for answers NOBODY knows. So we make up answers to make a name for ourselves. To assure everyone that we have purpose and that the people who make up all this bullshit do it to be known. We are a curious kind that’s for sure. And we’re going to destroy ourselves trying to find our purpose when there’s no purpose at all.
