Thinking of death is such an easy and addicting to do, right? I mean it’s so easy to think of dying, leaving everything when you don’t know how to cope with the real problems. So, one think of death and how he won’t need to think about the real problems, instead the people around that dead person will have to take care of the funeral and other arrangements.
Whenever I talk about death, my mother, who is a very religious lady, ask me if I am ready to face the afterlife. But you know what this question of hers makes me ask myself? That if I am ready to leave this world? Because let’s face the truth, problems are not, there are so many things to hold on here and even if a person have no friends and family to care about him/her, there are always things to love. Then there are secrets, I mean I won’t like to die and have my journals opened and seen what kind of person I was. I also don’t want people to see my stuff that I hid under my bed and think they now understand what kind of mind I had because no matter what they see, people are bound to misunderstand. So I might think of death, and think about the writings in my journal and stuff under my bed, I would get up and burn my pages and delete my drafts and throw away my things and feel ready to die knowing that now, no one will get to know what I write and what I was hiding under my bed. But then, death is not just waiting for you to be ready so, you will go on with your life. And after sometime I again, will think of death and again delete my freshly written journal and throw my stuff but I am not sure if I will die so I’ll wait because I am not that desperate that I’ll kill myself. So, this goes on and on and you know what, one day I will get tired of deleting and burning my journals and throwing away my stuff that I will decide not to think of death. That one thing in the end might help me, more than anything.