Years ago, one of my greatest pleasures is rummaging through the mini-library of my home. It still is, really, something like a must-do thing every year when I get back home. I'll take a few books, add quite a lot and it goes on. However, this scribble is not about how I seem to do that on and on and on, oh no my dear fickle readers, this is about a time when I was doing the whole routine and I saw a book.
It's a normal, 200 pages or so binding of mindless babble - I have yet to read it, hence I must allow myself to label it that way - but what caught me was it's title. Simply; 'Who Will Cry When You Die'. I think it has been about five years since that discovery but finally, I have found out what abhors me so much about it.
The moment I saw it, something in me rebelled. Like a mutant foetus, it clawed and drove it's presumably scaly foot against the wall of my stomach, trying to tell me something but of course, answers never do come to you instantly does it? It hovers an inch away from your extended, grasping hands and it laughs. It's for a good cause, I suppose, if it does not do that, we'd still think that it's definitely safe to jump from twenty story buildings when life gets too problematic.
It's been five years. I guess that with age, wisdom does come skipping through the fields of daisies while singing those damned fucken Sound of Music shit. It takes awhile but there's a price to everything. Forgive my continuous rantings, it's very enjoyable, see but what I'm trying to say is that given that I were to die, I would hate it if people shed countless tears at my funeral.
It's not that I think that sadness is non-existent, far from it actually. I have learned that sorrow is quite the potent emotion and I was fed copious amounts of it when Babe died. What I am trying to say is that most of us have lost the grasp on what sadness and despair is nowadays, most of us have simply, forgotten how to cry properly.
Call me insensitive, - I'd actually appreciate asshole more really - but nowadays, people seem to cry at almost everything. See, I believe it's fine if it has something to do with you, like a lost loved one, or even while watching movies but I find it hard to accept how people seem to cry at random things. This would be where you call me the scum of the earth, because really, I do not understand why you'd cry when there's a disaster occurring at some distant faraway land, where you have no association to said place, and frankly, no reason to feel any sadness at all. Reflection, maybe, but sadness, I dare say not. If you want to cry and whine at how sad the whole affair is, then cry twenty four hours, seven days a week. Better still, go to the disaster struck area and cry with those people who've lost everything because in my books, you're fucking insane.
Nowadays, this world is full of sorrow that people have made it into a god damned normality. It's as if the logic behind the matter is that 'Since everyone is doing it, I should probably join in'. That's why I don't want people to cry when I die. It would be a direct insult to me or what's left of me. I'd rather have one person sitting by my grave and laughing and thinking about those times where we did so and so, rather than a thousand people crying but then going home and not feel a thing. If I die, I want to leave behind nothing more than fond memories of myself, I think that's good enough. I don't want to leave a legacy behind, I don't want to die famous. I do not want people shedding tears when they themselves have no idea why the fuck they're doing so.
I sincerely hope that said book does not tell people on how to die and leave a million bawling fuckers lost in the world. That would be the end of creative writing and I could imagine Tolkien begging God to be resurrected for just a day so that he could strangle the author with his own bare hands... Really, I couldn't have been the only one to have seen that book, anyone read that shit yet?
It's a normal, 200 pages or so binding of mindless babble - I have yet to read it, hence I must allow myself to label it that way - but what caught me was it's title. Simply; 'Who Will Cry When You Die'. I think it has been about five years since that discovery but finally, I have found out what abhors me so much about it.
The moment I saw it, something in me rebelled. Like a mutant foetus, it clawed and drove it's presumably scaly foot against the wall of my stomach, trying to tell me something but of course, answers never do come to you instantly does it? It hovers an inch away from your extended, grasping hands and it laughs. It's for a good cause, I suppose, if it does not do that, we'd still think that it's definitely safe to jump from twenty story buildings when life gets too problematic.
It's been five years. I guess that with age, wisdom does come skipping through the fields of daisies while singing those damned fucken Sound of Music shit. It takes awhile but there's a price to everything. Forgive my continuous rantings, it's very enjoyable, see but what I'm trying to say is that given that I were to die, I would hate it if people shed countless tears at my funeral.
It's not that I think that sadness is non-existent, far from it actually. I have learned that sorrow is quite the potent emotion and I was fed copious amounts of it when Babe died. What I am trying to say is that most of us have lost the grasp on what sadness and despair is nowadays, most of us have simply, forgotten how to cry properly.
Call me insensitive, - I'd actually appreciate asshole more really - but nowadays, people seem to cry at almost everything. See, I believe it's fine if it has something to do with you, like a lost loved one, or even while watching movies but I find it hard to accept how people seem to cry at random things. This would be where you call me the scum of the earth, because really, I do not understand why you'd cry when there's a disaster occurring at some distant faraway land, where you have no association to said place, and frankly, no reason to feel any sadness at all. Reflection, maybe, but sadness, I dare say not. If you want to cry and whine at how sad the whole affair is, then cry twenty four hours, seven days a week. Better still, go to the disaster struck area and cry with those people who've lost everything because in my books, you're fucking insane.
Nowadays, this world is full of sorrow that people have made it into a god damned normality. It's as if the logic behind the matter is that 'Since everyone is doing it, I should probably join in'. That's why I don't want people to cry when I die. It would be a direct insult to me or what's left of me. I'd rather have one person sitting by my grave and laughing and thinking about those times where we did so and so, rather than a thousand people crying but then going home and not feel a thing. If I die, I want to leave behind nothing more than fond memories of myself, I think that's good enough. I don't want to leave a legacy behind, I don't want to die famous. I do not want people shedding tears when they themselves have no idea why the fuck they're doing so.
I sincerely hope that said book does not tell people on how to die and leave a million bawling fuckers lost in the world. That would be the end of creative writing and I could imagine Tolkien begging God to be resurrected for just a day so that he could strangle the author with his own bare hands... Really, I couldn't have been the only one to have seen that book, anyone read that shit yet?
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