Death and me.
I think of death a lot. More often than I thinking of the living. I wonder what it would feel like walking into deaths embrace, looking at the living through the veil. Would there be an afterlife? What does the final seconds of being alive feel like? What would I remember?What would I feel? Would I know that this is IT?
Just yesterday, I was putting the clothes out to dry and I wondered what would happen if I were to fall. How many seconds would it take me to hit the ground? Since I live on the tenth floor and the constant speed is 10m/s, I most likely will be dead in just 3-4 seconds. Just like that, I am no more and a body is there. With blood splattered everywhere. My very own Rorschach creation. An artist to the end.
Everytime I cross the road, enter a lift, cut a chicken, I wonder, would this be my last time? Would this be it? Will there be pain? Would I be be able to take it?
I know not why I am fascinated by the idea of myself dying. Just that I am. Perhaps when I die, I shall remember how I lived.
Forever in the embrace of the death.
Just yesterday, I was putting the clothes out to dry and I wondered what would happen if I were to fall. How many seconds would it take me to hit the ground? Since I live on the tenth floor and the constant speed is 10m/s, I most likely will be dead in just 3-4 seconds. Just like that, I am no more and a body is there. With blood splattered everywhere. My very own Rorschach creation. An artist to the end.
Everytime I cross the road, enter a lift, cut a chicken, I wonder, would this be my last time? Would this be it? Will there be pain? Would I be be able to take it?
I know not why I am fascinated by the idea of myself dying. Just that I am. Perhaps when I die, I shall remember how I lived.
Forever in the embrace of the death.