sugar & spice

ii

to mourn (the death of humanity.)

I fear death. I have become acquainted with the feeling since long ago. Many would simply said that its a common thing— that many fear the same thing— for death is everyone's privilege. One would say that they only fear the things that comes after death— the judgment for their good deeds and sins. The other would say that they fear death because of how sudden it is— how they won't be able to finish the things they wish to do but failed to, due to how much time given to them spent on little things of little matters. They knew that they're only spending it to spoil themselves, but they will always find a way to blame the universe for giving them so 'little' time.

As for I— I didn't know why I fear death that much that every time I hear its name my limbs would froze and my heart would quiver as every inch of my body sweat bullets. I fear it so much that every time someone asked me to attend a funeral I had to refuse them in order to keep my sanity in tact. I know people often sees it as disrespectful, but I just can't bring myself to be brave enough.

It is not until a few days ago that I discovered why I fear and hate death so much. It was a fine afternoon with the sun beams like melting gold and the sky was as blue as those blue roses in the paintings. We were laughing as we listened to those cheesy songs when the news came through the whispers of the winds. The silence became thick as we listened to how one of our relatives' soul had passed— a sweet soul. I remember how I wanted so badly to cry and to scream as I felt numb to the core. I remember how I tried to come up with some kind of sympathy, how I wanted to feel as upset as my heart allows me to, but I just can't. My throat was as clear as the day and my heart didn't clench at the thought of losing something that should've been of big matters to me. But I couldn't— for the love of God— bring myself to feel all those things I wanted so badly to feel just so I could feel like a decent human being with a decent heart. But as I lifted my chin, I could see that I'm not the only one— and just like that, the deafening silence was cut off by the cheesy songs which played itself once more. Gone was the grief and soon after that the shadow of death itself. It occurred to me then, how death could be so frightening. Its not the abruptness nor was it the afterlife's judgment.

It is the mere fact that we're nothing more than just a disposable being and nothing will stop long enough to mourn our souls even as it flies to the great infinity and beyond— not time, not even our own kind.