Youth is not invincible.

Death.

It's the one thing that's indiscriminate. We often lament how unfair it is. How sudden or tormenting. How there was so much potential, so much ahead. Well, if anything, it's the fucking fairest thing in the world. It doesn't care who you are, where you come from, whether you're young or old, whether you're ready to face it or have never given it a thought. When it comes, it comes.

Life.

Goes both ways. Life is short, go out there and live. Death is always imminent, what really is the point? Is it really so ridiculous and irrational that people turn to a greater being to make sense of all this crazy shit? Call it a crutch, but why is logic and reason any less of one? Or even the acceptance of the belief that shit just happens, and there aren't any explanations. We all depend on something to get us to keep moving. Who's to say who's got it right? Who the fuck cares, as long as we're carrying on?

Death is exhausting. I've been trying to look at it in the face to the extent possible. Not in the sense that I'm putting myself in life-compromising positions. I'm trying to understand it. Confront the idea of it. Come to terms with my loss, and the fact that I will die. That everyone around me that I care about will die. And that regardless of who and how, the rest of the world will go on doing what it does, and in the greater scheme of things, none of it will matter. It's so simple sometimes it's almost laughable. But only when it's not terrifying. There is nothing that makes me feel as vain and self-centered as thinking about my own death.

Life is simple, really. The complexities seem like indulgences. Ornamental details that make and keep things interesting. Otherwise, what's the point, right?