If you think about death…I mean, really think about it, you realise that you are, more likely than not, going to reach a point in your life where you are going to suffer. Most likely, it’ll be a physical pain that you’ve never experienced before, and you’re going to struggle. It’s going to hurt. And that pain could go on for hours and hours, or days. You don’t know the fate that life has in store for you. Does that scare you?
And after, you’re what — transcended into heaven? Forced into hell? Left in purgatory? A spirit left behind to guide those that are still alive? Or are we just done, end? The world will continue to go on and on and on, and we will just be finished…forever.
Or do we come back? Do we get a second or third chance at life? Maybe we finally get the chance to be someone else. Or maybe we’re brought back to a world that is worse than what we perceive it to be right now.
Death scares me, but I fear eternity scares me more.
This is tragically beautiful.
When I die, I want to be so naively happy that this is what I thought of my life.
This is me lying to myself.
We’re born alone, right? Why is it that we strive to have a significant other? We live our lives being ashamed of being single and putting up with the biggest load of bullshit from the opposite (or same) sex. It’s date after date, sex and sex and sex. We’re tricked into feeling all sorts of weird feelings for another human being and then we feel the agony of breaking up, death, sickness, infidelity or whatever. It’s like a life mission – to find a partner. I understand it. It’s great being a pair – but is that really what is the most important thing in the world?
I thought to myself “I hate that I have to reply to e-mails, I hate that I am asked to do things, I hate that I have to worry about whether I have enough food in my fridge and that I have to go to the shops. I hate that I have to get up and go to work.” I want to go home to my country but lately, I don’t want to go home. And then it just hit me, that I am so sick of living. Am I that sour that I hate having friends? I hate being asked to do things because I am set up in the situation where I have to, again, say no. I hate social situations and if it were up to me, I’d be married and spend all of my time with one person that loves me romantically. Am I that bitter that I don’t care what anyone else thinks besides the opposite sex? And I’ve just given up hope with men as it is. The little optimism I used to carry is now completely depleted. I used to hold onto a thought that someone may want me, but at this stage – I am no longer waiting by the phone for his message that he suddenly wants to have 50 thousand of my babies and I know that the only time I may get is during the week when everyone else is busy. I don’t even care about it anymore. I lost hope in myself, I’ve put on a few kilograms that have shown up in my face and I am embarrassed to see myself and to be seen. I’ve just lost feelings of pleasure and happiness.
Nelson Mandela, Tata, my leader and my inspiration –
You made South Africa a better place. You showed the world what it was like to be completely selfless, to love and to accept. You forever changed South African democracy and instilled a sense of leadership, trust and forgiveness among South Africans. You are my role model. Your selfless acts changed the face of South Africa and I only hope that one day, we can gain that peace that was brought upon by your leadership.
We love you, Tata (Father, in isiXhosa).
Rest in Peace.
Someone I know passed away today. My friend called me in tears, telling me the news. I didn’t know him well, but it really sparked an emotion within me. I have been fortunate to not have anyone close to me die, but it still shatters me to hear something like this.
Having heard this news made me think a lot about something that I said recently. Something I have said more than once. I had been done a wrong, and I had been hurt really badly. I’m still hurting and I said nasty things. I wish death upon someone in quite an inhumane way and I think I actually wanted it to happen. I find myself sitting here asking for forgiveness. I feel awful for having said those things. Regardless of what was done to me, it was horrible and unacceptable for me to say those things – to myself or to others. I guess I’ve realized that, whether this person feels bad about what happened or not, I forgive what happened and I do only wish the best for said person. It’s hard to say that, and I would be lying if I said I meant it 100% but I am working on it. It hurts, I am still so sore from hurting.
I guess I just want to ask God for forgiveness for these impure and evil thoughts that I have thought and said out loud. I’m sorry, please forgive me.