The saying of last things.
This is one slot a terminal illness offers you that being run over by a bus doesn’t.
There is no mourning with a bus.
There are no regrets.
The opportunity to be candid is totally gone.
You can’t set the records straight.
There is no time for openness.
There is no later time to redress things.
When you are hit by a bus, you can’t strip away the pretense.
Terminal illness affords you the opportunity to say goodbye, then you discover that DYING is not LOSING.
But, the sad part is, not everyone would get the opportunity that a terminal illness offers.
We scream “see you later” to people whom we know the possibilities of seeing again is slim. Why do we do that? Why do we always assume we would see each other again?
What if you get hit by a bus? What if life doesn’t give you the ‘luxury’ of a terminal illness? How do you strip away?
Deception is the natural defense of the weak.
But guess what? They tell you not to be weak, but in the midst of all their ‘telling’, you are also expected to be
pretentious which in very clear terms is the same thing as deception.
The world likes pretense. They want you to smile when you don’t want to and at the people you don’t want to.
“Act all nice and giggly”. “say what I want to hear”.
The world needs kindness. When you go through your share of deep shit, I hope you find someone who is kind to you. But is it possible to be kind to everyone? Absolutely not.
If I do not like to be associated with you. I do not. And that is that.
Why would any sane human expect you to be deceptive? They even REQUIRE that from you.
What if I do not get the ‘luxury’ of a terminal illness?
Do you think about that before making your demands?
Find ways to be kinder to people, but do not lose your core.
If Jeremy Corbyn called Theresa May a “stupid woman”, he actually only said what most people are thinking.
At one of the low points of my life, I once had a friend ask me, “do you regret handling things the way you did?”.
I was too emotional to think at the time. But right now, as I write this, I actually don’t. No regrets. Maybe I should, but I don’t.
Life throws a lot of things at us.
I may never see you again. You may not have the luxury of saying the last things.
Why don’t we say goodbyes and leave the “see you later” part out of it?
And why would you hope for a terminal disease to quit all the pretense? That doesn’t just make sense.
Before the universe goes silent, call her a “stupid woman”.
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