Your own death. The end. Inexistence.  

I do. Daily.

I am so aware of every day bringing me forward to the inevitable vanishing, that every day becomes a celebration.

Even if I am hurting or I am hurt or I have hurt; I know that the clock is ticking

Not in my favour.

And then, I know that to speak my truth is more important than to please; that to love my parents is more important than recall the past hurts; that there is no time to do what dulls my soul; that there is no time to lie to myself; the only option is to live out the given moment to its fullest.

My death scares me as much as it helps me.

Pain melts in its presence.

Daily anxieties and complaints pale in its mighty shadow.

And only in the antithesis of life does life thrive.

There is no fixed point in the future to arrive at.

You won’t be happier if you find a partner, get a promotion, go travelling, achieve this or that.

To say that you will be happier in the future is the same as to say there is not...