Mortality's Immortality

    I sat in my room reading Eliot’s The Wasteland two nights ago, only to find that I shared a mind-blowing connection with his train of thought. We shared a brighter resemblance in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, when it came down to measuring out life in coffee spoons, and being concerned about petty things, like our hair thinning, and what to do and where to go in such little time, or even what exactly those women talked about when it came to Michelangelo.

    I don’t know, they don’t know, he doesn’t know. They were never *that* educated.          Or were they?                                              Were they justsuppressedbysocietyoverandoveragain until they gave    up
and it all wore thin and then they DIED? What is this?
And yet this still happens... I feel ignorance is bliss and it will remain that way
until we die.
But in the meantime, I bask in the fact that I am mortal. And I will never forget it.

This is very misleading, but who is judging?

    Photographs enable us to recollect into the corners of our mind and recall a happier time when we smiled more, struggled less, ate more, and spent carelessly. Now we have no time to smile, struggle a whole lot more, and eat a whole lot less because we’re trying to be a whole lot healthier. Not to mention the fact that recessions eat our money like a garbage compactor eats trash and mashes it up. But we cannot afford even garbage compactors at the moment...

    We’re only human, poor, insignificant humans that make our own lives more difficult.

Our sky is grey-blue, a sorrow-full colour like after a funeral. When you take a deep breath and look up at the sky, agreeing with yourself, "Thank God that’s over." But then you fight back angered tears and fight yourself on the subject of whether a God actually exists, and if they did, why would they punish you by taking away your loved one?

    And then again, we are smacked in the face with the Mortality Card.

    Speaking of loved ones, what is love? Do we actually acquire love before death? Embracing one another and uttering the three words so many want to hear but can barely muster to say themselves... Humans are the only species that have sex for pure pleasure.

    We worry, we educate, we suppress, we recollect, we remember, we depress, we regress, we become clones for a society that wants everyone to be predictable, we question and answer – but mostly question. We love, or try to. We have sex to please, to be pleased, to reproduce. We measure out our lives in coffee spoons. We take the road most travelled on.


We are mortal.











Yet our habits are immortal.