Memoirs of an Amnesiac

"Oh death, where is thy sting?" is often what one who is hopelessly bound to earth mutters. Probably because of the unbearable pains and the unmeaningless in one's life do mortals eagerly await their end.

Death connotes many things to different people from different walks of life. To a doctor who pronounced one man's demise, death may mean, the end of time or the time that they need to fill out those death certificates. To a lawyer death may mean heirloom and the time it needs for them to settle the deceased's properties. To painter death may mean the passage of time, totally evoked by his dark and bold lines.

To someone like me, death is a phase, something that all of us go through each day. I die each day. I die because of the many disappointments and setbacks I go through. I die because of my shortcomings. I die for the lack of the reason to live and to dream for. I die because of the many people who rely on me yet I fail them many times over. I die because of my inadequacies and my laxity.

However unlike all pronounced deaths, I live yet for another day. Another day to correct my mistakes. Another day to say sorry or to express my love to people who cared for me (yet I often neglect them). Another day to be strong and have courage, to rise up above one's frailties and shortcomings, to embrace the light and shun darkness, to walk with one's head held high and not stumble.

How about you? Are you dead? It's never too late. Rise and shine. It's a beautiful morning.