Pull Me Under

When you know that your time is close at hand
maybe then you’ll begin to understand
Life down there is just a strange illusion.
                            [Iron Maiden, Hallowed Be Thy Name]

Death – the one word that is taboo amongst us. Speak of the word, and almost everyone always gets an uneasy feeling deep inside. You may try to hide it; you may try to deny it. But it’s always there, and the sword of Damocles that it is, always hangs above us.

When was the last time you really lived? When was the last time that the things in life truly made you happy? They say you experience life after you have known death; but I feel there needs to be some form of axiom to this rule: experiencing life scares you of death even more. When things are gloomy around you, when life gives you the bad days are the days one hardly bothers to think of the end. And when life is going like it should, as a projection of one’s dreams, is when I keep getting scared of the reaper. I know I cannot truly explain the way I feel; I will always be taken the wrong way (allusions to paranoia, anyone?) This is one part I cannot share with my loved ones, because instead of them comforting me, I will end up disturbing them. Not their fault, this topic itself is proscribed amongst people. No one wants to think of losing their loved ones, no one wants to let go of the life they love. Yet, I keep getting scared of the dark eternal nights, of the times when I dream someone close leaving me, or myself leaving them. I can’t explain the cause; all I know for sure is there is going to be a day when I will be musing to myself what might have caused these thoughts in me in the first place, or how I could even be bothered about dying, when I have so much to live for. 

The dark chasms of the unknown,
The brightness of inviting life,
And trapped somewhere in between is my mind
Wishing it weren’t caught in the strife.

Strange illusion this life is; no one sees the end, and no one knows how it starts. But like the seasons, it is always there. And like the myth of Sisyphus, we keep trying to ignore it, but in vain.