Death

I asked a few friends what would happen if they were to die tomorrow. They were pretty much horrified about this grave thought. None of them said they were ready.

Oddly enough, while I don't wish that these are my last moments and this isn't my last blog, I would be content with going. I feel I've done a lot in 20 years (especially the past six). I've seen most of the US, been part of an award-winning karate program, headbanged at so, so many shows and concerts, and excelled in school.

Not that I wish death. I've still got plenty left to do here, one day at a time.

Note that this post isn't a suicidal post only for people to discover later. I know nobody reads this so if I was going to want a cry for attention, I'd post it on Facebook or something.

Rather, I just finished reading "Broken Harts," Martha's narrative of her husband Owen Hart's stunt gone wrong. As I went along I got kind of bummed out at the fact that dying, though inevitable, still sucks. But then I thought that I've actually been privileged enough with a score of good friends, a nice place to live, and a few passions peppered in along the way.

Life rules.

Throughout the week I haven't been able to stop listening to "The Balance Theory" by Dead to Fall.

There is a balance: Negativity needs to exist. Pain needs to persist. Otherwise, the moments of joy we experience would lose their relevance.