Death

This year, I’ve begun to realize the irony of life. Throughout our lives, most of us have been desperately trying to preserve it. We eat healthily, we work out, we watch both ways before crossing the street. All so that we can reach old age. We cheat death daily, in many little things we do.

But why?

Is death really that bad? Sure, you can’t do anything after you die, you can no longer see your loved ones, etc. But once you’re dead, you’re no longer going to be suffering this thing called life anyway.

To me, death is not the ultimate punishment. Honestly, once you die, it’s not much of a punishment. Life imprisonment is more of a punishment than execution. Death is more of a punishment to those who loved the deceased than to the deceased. Think about it: would it be more of a punishment to a person to kill that person, or to slowly kill off each of his/her loved ones?

So why are we all trying to avoid death? The longer we live, the more likely we will be the ones growing senile and helpless. The ones who will be watching all our friends die, year after year. The ones who will wind up lonely and helpless, in a retirement home.

For a while, I was a bit upset. Life seemed so futile, so pointless. Most of us waste our life away, acting as little lemmings in life, doing as we are told, not really sure why we do it. We go to school, we do homework, we cram for tests. We go to work, we waste our life away for eight hours, we go back home and waste some more of our life away, watching TV or playing video games. You can work your ass off to become the best pianist in the world, or you can be the best construction worker any construction company has ever hired, and in the end, you will still be another body in another coffin. Life will still slowly become more and more painful with each passing moment, your achievements a long forgotten memory nobody will care about.

However, I would like to wish to make my mark upon the world before I go. I would like to be as great as the greats, such as Mahatma Gandhi, or Mother Teresa. I don’t really care if I’m listed in the history books; nobody really cares in history class, anyway: it’s all cram, regurgitate, repeat. Nowadays, how many people really care about those who lost their lives fighting in the name of freedom during the Civil War or the Revolutionary War?

I would like to go knowing that I have made a positive difference in as many lives as possible.