Death is a hunter for some. For others, it's just another humiliation in this life, preventing them from being something worthwhile, shortening lifes time even further. But death is the moment when love manifests itself most. Love in the most clichéd form of purity, but love in the general sense, because as I said, I don't understand much about love (and for me, it's not a very important thing... but that's a topic for another day, hehe), a love that involves friendships, brotherhood, the simple yet grandiose solo presence, and even romantic and familial love. In the moment of loss , you realize how much you loved the presence of that departed being. In the moment of loss, you realize how much you loved the presence of that departed being. How artistic they were with their way of speaking, bringing harmony to your family or just to you, moving, etc. And then, you begin to carry that being's life with you, immortalizing their existence. Life and death are th...
Life and death are the same, in some way. The same in that they are ephemeral and not "sides" or eccentrically "real" things. Neither of them needs to think about having a body (whether a body "described" as ugly or beautiful) or any kind of choice that involves "one side" all the time. They don't need to be anything, and this applies to your life, which is always questioning you about who you are, whether you're worthy, whether you're a monster or something perfect or great, and that's so annoying that it even loses the point of complaining about it sometimes; it just becomes horrible. The world is somewhere between horrible things and "extremely" beautiful things, and that's it. Life becomes stupid. It doesn't escape your suffering or the suffering of the world in general.
There are appropriate times to deal with issues beyond your control. Facing reality without defenses is like shouting at a wall, without an answer. Life is a paradox that demands self-knowledge, and death remains unanswered. It's essential to understand that you are part of this void and that life lacks a fixed meaning, and this is what gives death its beauty:Death doesn't care about sides, perfection, shapes, or colors. It doesn't care about meaning. "Ephemerally" passing through life, it doesn't care about these kinds of factors, which are usually another being who always complains and who tortures others.
You can't truly be real because you never stay fixed on anything; you don't leave what would be "you," but you're not always loving, happy, or brave. Ephemeral. Being real can turn even the simplest problem into a huge burden that prevents you from even listening to others or tolerating "annoying" and irritating people. Of course, you shouldn't accept everything thrown at you; you shouldn't be a sucker. But the trick is to not care about how you appear, how others appear, or even reason about what they are. Just go with the flow and don't bring up "reality" at unnecessary moments. Death comes at the right time, and time passes at the right moment.
Let fear or any memory play in your head so you don't forget that problems still exist, but they can be solved. Just try not to solve infinity with a single logic. Don't fight with yourself. Enbrance it even in Death.
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