Dead

You are dead. Does it matter? Does it matter what you did the day before you die? Does it matter to you or to someone else?

Once oblivion takes over us, there is little left of the miserable or happy or amazing lives we lived. Why are we so keen on knowing, learning, caring, hurting, if we are all born dead? We are born ticking bombs, ready to explode and hurt everyone around, to the point that they forget all about us, remember only once in a while with a slight smile or a tear. Is all we are worth only a hint of smile or a greedy tear?

We try so hard, to make something of ourselves, just to run away from the thought that we are dead now and we will be dead soon enough. We push the tought of death through the pointless attempt to prove we are worth something, we can, we will. But are we really?

What does this life bring us? Joy, for sure, sadness, most of the time, hurt, all around, excitment, some of the time. It may be a beautiful life to live but it is more an amazing life to leave behind, by dying.

I am dead.