Once upon a time, I used to have time. Like a white sheet of paper. And I had to fill it up. I believed it was my obligation towards life. My duty. Time, like money, is not to be preserved, but spent.
But then, one day, time left me. Deserted me. Or if she had been my lover, I would have said -- ditched me. So that I was stranded in one single moment. What I really lost that day was a past and many uncertain futures. And the present was unending. Tiresome.
I had attained death.
Slowly, after I had overcome the initial excitement of my great achievement, I realised that the line that divides life and death is actually very, very thin. Delicate. So that we must overstep it again and again. We keep living our death. And we keep dying into our lives. Your feeling that this piece of writting is somehow connected to your life is the evidence to this.
I know now that all of us are immortals. And life and death is as beauty is, in the eye of the beholder. Relative. We don't live forever. Neither do we die. Don't be misguided. I'm NOT writing about a reincarnation. But about this life of yours.
You'd never be able to live. Nor to die. But will be trapped in a single moment, just as you are right now.
Imagination is your escape. Embrace it.