venerdì, marzo 16, 2018

What's the point of death?

Wouldn't it be amazing if Death and Loss lived up to their reputations for being crucibles that, for all their horrors, saw us burn away our petty dislikes and our long-cherished sell-by-date-passed grudges? In fact, wouldn't this life with all its ridiculous aspects definitely mean something if they did? And wouldn't this life be some sort of existential nightmare if they didn't?

Christ, there is something so profoundly depressing about a score-settling, dishonest, passive-aggressive obituary. Chop me into pieces, feed me to the birds, and bury my memory in oblivion before that. I mean if those are the things I leave my loved ones with, or the things I'm most pre-occupied with during my last days alive . . . just . . . ugh