Life is interesting in the sense that it gives us the illusion of choice. At first glance, we seem to have that luxury in abundance– the ability to choose from a variety of options that dictate our life. At second glance, these choices are nothing but poisoned chalices– sacrifices that we cannot bear.
A single cup will not result in our deaths– yet the accumulation of such poison would erupt if we were to empty those cups entirely. Humanity can never gain without losing– making sacrifice a necessity. There is no morality in this sacrifice– as we can force others to bear the brunt of our choices, forcing them to drink from these poisoned cups in our place.
Sacrifice is neither a virtue nor a sin– it is a human trait, capable of being both. Choice is a luxury when it should be a right– as some of us are deprived of this right, the title of “luxury” being a mark of shame for the rest of us.
To be blind to this deprivation is also a choice, is it not? We are remiss, forgetting that our lives are defined by these choices– be it willing or unwilling. After all, the most fundamental choices are already made for us– based on factors that we have no control over. While I am content with my inheritance, others may feel otherwise– these inherited choices acting as chains.
After all, a child’s innocence is well-matched by their adaptability– a glass heart, easily stained by their environment and upbringing. Only later in life will they comprehend the choices that were made for them in their youth– the foundation of their being.
It is impossible for a person to not make choices in life– the only exceptions being those who lack the consciousness to choose, a blameless fault that I can only mourn for. A person who has the liberty of choice, yet claims to have never made one is a charlatan– a man deceived by his inner nature. His choices were so thoroughly ingrained that he lost sight of it.
If a person’s choices were to be stripped of him, then you would find a newborn in his place– as such choices are signs of growth, the soil of our paths in life. Each choice we make serves as an additional layer of that soil. This soil of ours may be rich or destitute, depending on the choice we made.
These choices of ours are like answers to questions. But, it seems that some of us have held onto the notion that there are right choices and wrong choices, just as there are answers. This notion is one that obscures our judgement, turning complexities into simple matters.
You and I have made enough choices to recognize that some choices are neither right nor wrong. I reject this notion– to rely alone on binary categories is an act that denies nuance, turning my judgement into a condemnation.
A man has his initial value decided at birth– the innate value that all life possesses, an immutable one. That is the baseline of our existence– a value that society cannot ignore. The remainder of our worth can be found in the choices we make, as a man is only as worthy as his path.
Our worth is the definition we have given ourselves– one formed by our will, reflected through the judgement of others.
Some of us believe that all men are equal– an ideal that I cannot reconcile. While I admire the noble sentiment behind this thought, I dissent against this particular equality.
This thought serves to equalize our worths– to flatten some paths and to elevate others. It seeks to absolve us of the responsibility embedded within our choices– to render the consequences of these actions as void.
Our worth cannot simply be derived from our shared trait of humanity– it is nothing more than a delusion. Our intrinsic dignity and value can be found from this shared trait– an innate right retained by us all.
To accept this thought, it would be implied that we all walk on the same path– to which I would ask, what truly distinguishes humans from humanity? As this thought would override the individual nature of us all, in favour of a collective.
In the truest sense, men are not all equal– as our paths are different, paths that we are to walk with our resolve. This thought is one that sacrifices the future– as humanity cannot grow without these consequences. Life demands a sacrifice, and our growth is the sacrifice for such a thought.
This equality is one that undermines a person’s liberty of choice– distorting causality. It silences our virtues and masks our sins– allowing us to abscond from our lives, free of charge. We all have our gifts, our own doors to open. This equality is one that binds those doors shut, forcing us to go through the same door.
I reject this equality– an equality that decides an outcome rather than the process. We are to deal with the effects of our choices– to accept the consequences of it. I reject this equality, as I find that it eliminates the fault and responsibility of an individual– rejecting blame by means of stiflement.
Equality must never become a means of facilitating such stagnation– it is our worth that allows us to distinguish ourselves, a worth that remains unsaid. I am responsible for everything that I am– for my path and my choices. If I am not responsible for myself, then who shall stand in my place?
When I speak of equality, I speak of a concept that supplements the bedrock of our paths– our intrinsic traits, traits that were never choices to begin with. It is akin to concrete, shoring up the holes and gaps in this bedrock– allowing us to begin our path with an equal foundation.
While inequality is a trait that remains rooted in humans– we must strive to ensure that these inequalities are between individuals. That is our margin of error– as such inequalities tend to be organic rather than man-made.
Verily with life, comes death– death being the end of our paths. While we all may walk different roads, do we not walk to the same destination? It seems that some of us are remiss, believing that they’ll die old. It appears that we’ve forgotten the fragility of life– that death never discriminates.
While I am meticulous by nature, it’s still too early for me to make a will. I plan on living until I die– to fight death. If I win, then I was meant to live. If I lose, then there’s not much to be said. I’d be hard-pressed to surrender myself to death without challenging it.
I’ve looked at my own life and realized that I’ve been living in a callous manner. If I were to predict the cause of my death retrospectively– then I could write off the last two years with my bus-hopping activities. I still can’t decide between lifespan and efficiency since it saved me over 30 minutes per day. But the counterpoint to this is that any mistake I made would’ve been my last.
As much as I may make light of death with my jokes– I don’t have the confidence of living a long life. Make no mistake, I desire life as much as the next man– but each passing day is not guaranteed. It’s far too easy to die– for heaven’s sake, our parents spend our childhood years ensuring that we don’t die prematurely.
There are some of us who lived their lives in a more rash manner– people that now lay interred in their graves. Allow me to narrate this story with my faulty memory; In India, most people irrespective of age drive motorcycles– especially the youth. When I refer to high schoolers in this specific context, I refer to 8-10th graders.
Less than three years ago, a few high schoolers that belonged to my prior school crashed and died after overspeeding. There is no point in shaming them– they’ve already paid their price, leaving a lesson behind for the rest of us.
There’s no point in living life in an overly cautious manner. After all, a single accident allows death to claim you. Perhaps the most durable death is my teacher’s death. If I remember correctly, he died around 2021 in November. It was either on the 19th or another Friday.
When we were walking back to school after lunch, I remember our school van leaving with him inside– me and my classmates were initially confused. By the end of the day, we had an assembly and we were finally told that he died.
I remember it vividly as it’s perhaps the only time that I’ve seen an entire school cry, from the upperclassmen to us, the 8th graders at the time. The man was an insomniac– whose sleep only consisted of interrupted bursts. It’s ironic, as now he finally gets to sleep.
My life would’ve been different if he was still alive, since he somehow found out about the entire class’s crushes just before dying– he’d probably have a hell of a time tormenting us about it if he had enough time.
I believe it was last year when a friend of mine almost died when he got into a motorcycle accident– he suffered a concussion along with other injuries but I’m glad to say that he is alive and in good health after a few months of recovery. Another friend of mine also suffered the same fate but he got off lightly– their father paying the price in his place.
I remember one day, when I arrived at my bus station to see books strewn on the road as a bus slowly started to run off again after a brother got hit by another bus or wall while hanging off of the bus. I believe that some of us have underestimated the effort required to live and the ease of dying.
These narrations are what first comes to my mind— some recollections lie deeper in this well of memory. Yet these memories shall not disarm me of my vigilance and better senses.
As some of us believe themselves to be above this concept– that a person shouldn’t fear death. This belief is meaningless, as they have misconstrued their observations as actual experience. They call it courage but I recognize it as ignorance– as even courage has fear in it. Courage is not the absence of fear– it is the suppression of it.
It would do some of us well to attend a stranger’s funeral– to sober themselves in regards to the seriousness of death. I have already done so multiple times, for both strangers and kindred folk– an endeavor that I shall continue to pursue. The romanticization of death is perhaps one of more foolish notions that we’ve developed in our history, trivializing it in the process.
As such, I ask that you recognize the correlations between your choices and death– to choose a path that you have no qualms in being buried in. You will be buried in the soil that consists of your choices– so I hope that there’s enough soil for you to cover your coffin, lest you find yourself bereft of shelter.
Treat others with a bit more love– for a plant shall never complain of excess of light, but rather its lack. You and I both know that after it dies, no amount of light could ever compensate for it. Temper your dissatisfaction with life, as there’s already much for you to be content with– if you want to gamble, then prepare a safety net.
Above all, remember the responsibility that is imbued in every choice you make– the responsibility for your own life.
I am a person of many mistakes– mistakes that became translated into advice. Quite frankly, I prefer to tailor my advice, as my mistakes are likewise unique in this regard. All I can say is this; choose your path wisely.
It seems that I’ve made another mistake. There is a dissonance between my brain and heart– theoretical and practical. I loathe myself for this– as I have betrayed myself for what? I have made an oath to myself, to never become the object of my hatred– it seems that I’ve broken that oath today.
I’ve never felt more disgusted towards myself– for my lips to utter a tongue that I’ve long abandoned. I once subscribed to the notion of the golden rule. A notion that I’ve slowly drifted away from until now. As it seems that it’s time to sever it off entirely.
I find the golden rule incompatible with my mindscape, as I no longer have the will to lower myself to the same level as others– to speak words that contradict my principles, even in jest. My heart has mellowed with my dignity becoming more rigid– a dignity that I have sullied.
In the past, I said something along the lines of “If they go low, I go lower”– a motto that I now revile. I will not bend these principles of mine nor my dignity again. If others wish to go low, then let them choke on the dirt alone.
If I am to join them in this dirt– then let my body be buried underneath it, for my loathing will certainly burn me alive. I cannot recall if I wrote this before, but I referred to myself as a mirror in the past– to act as a reflection of a person’s will.
I shall no longer be a mirror–as I would rather break my own reflection than to allow it to persist for a single second longer. I have been remiss, allowing for my principles and morals to degenerate under the guise of humor.
I shall repay the kindness of others with my own as I have no intention of being in debt. While their kindness is free, I am still obligated by my standards to repay it. I have no qualms about being a debtor to some people– my debt acting as a bridge of trust and endearment. If a person can drown me in such kindness– I trust that they won’t abandon the relationship that arose from this debt.
People come and go but debts remain– I would rather overcompensate a person than to allow such fleeting debts, these debts shall not consign me to solitude.
In regards to malice, I shall repay it with my principles and ethics serving as the vehicle of my will. I am to live and die by these choices of mine, choices that shall remain unchanging in death. So how could I permit these choices to be influenced by another?
If a person goes high, then I shall meet their actions on that same ground– to give the same courtesy that they have given me. If a person goes low, let the weight of these principles press their ground until they yield– for proportion is a concept lost upon such people.
To adopt their principles to counter them is nothing but an encroachment on my dignity.
Author’s note:
This was my attempt to make a wholesome piece. To say the least, I can’t tell whether my attempt failed or not. Originally, I planned on splitting up writing topics so my piece would be more digestible for people. I first finished this piece with less than 1,500 words.
That was before I disgusted myself by responding likewise to a person’s joke. Its humor quickly wore off after a few minutes after thinking further. I feel revolted and disgusted by my own interaction.
I have a tendency of developing negative emotions after thinking– so while I may not react immediately, my intensity compensates for that. In this case, my face was stuck in a scowl for the greater part of the day as I refused to rest until I completed that section. So, after that bout of passion and the addition of my personal experiences, this work stands at around 3,400 words.
In “Censor’s Identity, I rejected pity on the grounds of it being alien to me. I said that I prefer to give rather than take. “Proofreader” is a mini-piece that I chose not to release– one of its reasons being my lack of appetite with pity.
In “Thoughts#1”, I reinforced this sentiment by claiming that I have no need for this emotional charity– that I am to pity others. In “Judgement”, I rejected this pity again– as my pity is enough for myself and for others, my dignity forbidding me from accepting or taking this pity.
I pointed towards this sentiment in “Lumen” but decided to not voice it, instead referencing these works. I’ve established precedent, so I won’t repeat this sentiment again– it is a constant in my writing. I expect those who read my writing to now recognize it.
I use the term “Brother” for strangers in that particular context, as our suffering is a bond. It was us who filled buses in the mornings and evenings travelling hours long for academia. We’ve eaten our fair share of pain throughout the years– so while I may hold disdain for them, I still recognize them as my brethren.
The reason why I used my actual experiences in my writing bit is so I could thoroughly hammer the concept of death into people’s hearts. Lived experiences strike deeper rather than theoretical thoughts– so I might as well narrate with my own.
In the past, I narrated the story of how I almost got hit by a bus. While I may have forgotten the audience, I remember their reaction. As this piece is more severe than my oral recollection. I plan on addressing these reactions before it manifests itself.
Reading it is enough, as the departed live in a way– making an abode out of our memories. I ask that you reserve your sympathies as I believe that there are others more deserving of these condolences than I.
In regards to my word count, I plan on changing it to align with some other changes that I plan on implementing. I plan on writing some pieces that’ll remain unpublished. There are certain topics that deserve to be written– but they’re too personal for me to publish them, honesty being a sin sometimes. Even by my standards, they are too revealing. This change is overdue as there’s already 10,000 words that aren’t published. I’ll implement this during winter break.
While I have no proof for this claim of mine, I believe that some people have misunderstood the intent of my words– believing that I was referring to them. My writing casts a broad net– I have no intention of singling a single person out in my writing, save for myself.
I am not so foolish to explicitly refer to people or use information that would identify them. I prefer to address their behavior instead– as they are unique but the specific critique I have is applicable to more than just them.
My words directed towards myself are more strict since I have no worries about others misinterpreting it for themselves– so I can afford to filter my words less.
As always, congratulations on reaching the end of this piece.
11-Ego and Death 22-Judgement 16-Censor’s Identity 17-Thoughts_1 22-Judgement 24-Lumen