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...
The world is strange, but even that definition doesn't exist. This is the paradox of life. Yet many insist that there is something "strictly" specific, not something logically specific. Typically, these people who live in cycles of "behaving" in this reality end up passing this madness on to others born from this "small universe." It's worth considering that all those who preach insignificant worlds usually can't stand their own world, and so they think this is being "strong" and realistic. Strong in humiliating yourself and being humiliated by the whole world.
It's one thing to be religious or to believe completely in some "law" or something like that and still know that you shouldn't follow ideas that undermine someone else's dignity or your own. It's another to agree with absolutely everything, to be afraid, or simply to no longer belong in your own body, and your dignity or someone else's honor is less important than this "realism" being definitively real. Remember to always protect your own heart and mind from things too "grandiose" to be understood, denied, or questioned. Every artist still needs a way to convey their masterpieces, and if you don't even have the dignity, you won't have a clear sense of your "mission" to convey to others. All true failures are of this type; they shouldn't be ignored, but they should be heard so you don't do the same or be worse. The world of these people is just a pit of failure, and in this pit there are always innocents who can't love, think, or express themselves in their own way.
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