Mortality
Occasionally I notice that someday, not too far away, I'm going to die. Along the way, bits of me will stop working, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. My arm hurts, it will hurt for another 0–70 years, and then I won't be here to blog about it any more. Furthermore, I don't get a choice; that's life. If I don't like the terms, I can't go home. These are the rules.It's enough to make you depressed (not the blogging bit, obviously!). I'm going to gradually break until I just stop. A year or two after I die, I will be forgotten; perhaps longer, but those who remember will die too. I don't remember my great-grandparents.
Where's the meaning in it? Sometimes I wish I were an ignorant purchaser of self-help volumes; if I were, I wouldn't simultaneously be struck by the innate beauty of it all and its astonishing transience. Not only my own mortality, but that of everything and the universe itself.
Everything ends sometime — otherwise there would be no beginnings, and nothing would really exist at all.
But I can still be pensive.
Apologies for the self-indulgent and gradually-swelling corpulent mess of a post.
Addendum: this is one reason I fear something like deafness — one day, I won't be able to hear a song that I would dearly love to. And one day I'll see my last sunset, and I won't know it — I'll never know it. And one day, someone I love will die, and I won't get to say goodbye just one more time. Morbid, but hey.
Posted at 2004-05-28 11:35:21 by Richard • Link to Mortality
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