orange sky

Death is such an impersonal thing. It tears you away from the people you love at a distance far away from you. It feels like the end to someone you’ve known all your life should happen in front of you, with you. So you can feel their pain and watch as their life fades from their bodies.

But that seldom happens. Instead, all you get is a phone call probably, an impersonal notification that it’s happened. Where is the proof? Where is the feeling? Isn’t death supposed to be tragic? But a tragedy is filled with gore and violence and women holding their breasts with their heads torn through the sky and crying like there’s no tomorrow. But there is a tomorrow. And a day after. And a day after that. Life goes on even if you don’t want it to. Some essential part of your life has been lost, stolen away, but there is that unceasing part of you that still keeps ticking. Like the energizer bunny.

If only life were so funny.