Why Do People Die, Mama?
Aug 4th , 2008There was a time I asked this question. I would guess there was a time we all did. The longer I go on the more obvious it becomes. Life is tiresome.
You are born happy, you learn and grow and question and reason, observe and interact. Eventually, there is nothing left. The world is full and empty, full of hope and opportunity, like a game, a game to keep you interested, to tease you and create adversity and intrigue. But it's a game that can't be won. It's a sorrowful and tedious joke that the masses fall victim to. The rules ever-fluctuating, rules of reality and rules of the heart divering from laws created by jealous and greedy men thousands of years before we were ever brought onto the field.
"Here's a taste of bliss," says the devil.
"Go on," says God. "Try to keep it."
And then they snicker and laugh together as they watch you jump and leap and struggle through a infinite number of meaningless hoops, all the while your soul is starving, body weakening, and will failing.
I am tired of the game, and I wish it were as simple as blaming God, but in fact, it is still man I have contempt and pity for. I am discouraged. I am demoralized. I am exhausted and bored.
"Papa, why do people die?" my child will ask.
"Because they want to," I will say.
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