Contemplating Death at 19...

Within the microcosm of life comes countless deaths all buried in the purgatory of mind. However, the demise of things remains incomplete, for when death comes rebirth.  Clean slates or in the form of chance.  It is the individual need dictating the life span: "How long can you live this way?"  Slowly exhausting the need to dream with even less tolerance for disappointment.  Chaos in apathy.  The serenity of acceptance (or are you faking it?) vs. an extreme distaste for the unacceptable.  So what?  Just don't give a fuck.  Existence is for self...and the meaning of life?...Living.  The answer in the question flusters even the greatest MENSA minds.  Conceive living as suitable to satisfy as many wants less those compromising need.  Life on life's terms...I've died a lot.  Enough to conclude only the release of the twisted comfort in morbidity allowed exposure of more...

And in each death more shall be revealed.  In final farewells I leave with my answers.  For the entire picture witnessed by the unexpecting creator, designer and artist comes confusion of understanding.  A certain unrest is born of utter simplicity.  Everything done; everything learned.  Death the final moment for the artist to know these truths presented to minds escaping the oblivion of experience...Only within the moment of death is life complete...Until then live beyond the need for explanation...How do you explain something with no experience.  I've searched for answers; yet, nobody here can predict what I will know.  Safety only in the understanding of inevitable discovery...

My questions shall remain unanswered until the predetermined end unveils answers among the death and rebirth of my lives.  Expecting reactions of perfectionism, I may need a moment to inspect the depths of my remaining desires...than looking at all "I am" and confidently moving on...

Leaving birth, life, death (beyond lies further unknown) behind with the understanding: "I WAS"- and that's it for life...Thank you; time to know death...

Perhaps the door to further existence opens to those understanding the discovery- the almost inconceivable simplicity of being...

Be warned now, my dear, regret may leave resistance to see all.  For the same fears that keep you holding on may alter your view and leave a distorted picture...

When you die- What do you fear greater? The Unknown you are soon to know or the unknown you leave behind?  Each step of the way not allowing deaths before regret replaces temptation; hindering the answers to your questions.  Regret the main distraction when defining who "I am", and may leave an unparalleled impression of who "I was".  A soul left to the What If?'s aroused in the desperate realm of unanswered questions...

An incomplete death; leaving more than one question behind of who you may have been if you would have just been...

At one point we all were (birth); then we is (life); then we was (death)...

As we is (point of transition) to dimensions unknown where my sole requirement remains being as "I be"- while we still discover the question of continuous being...or do we retire into a world of was...?

Endless lessons remain untaught...

Lesson of importance in order to free room to understand what you will learn upon the existence of every experience- YOU KNOW NOTHING!  With no past "be"-ing, not a fucking one of you left to create an "I am".  Innocence will be of no use to you from now on.  The waste of time hiding behind the comfort of undisturbed socially acceptable ignorance.  Absorbing the delicate decisions involved when beginning to discover the options provided; thus the question of "Who are you?"  Still, I DON'T KNOW! (Ask again upon my introduction to death when my definition concludes beyond life's capabilities...)

And death not ends it for the irony of so leaves no mercy on a being prepared for more while cased in a shell not created for immortality...Rather, upon dying, freedom of the human limitations are lifted.  Leaving behind the pure essence of self.  Weightless I remain beyond the horizons of time and space in a vast nothingness personified by human memory.  Existing to create a definition of self and upon completion I cease to be?- Maybe it is all part of some sick fucking joke to burden humans with imagination and reason leaving with no punch line...

Death hides in pure divinity leaving the possibility (most probable) of nothing beyond the further dreams of continuance resting quietly among fears that in the between of here and there, my anticipated definition reveals: I simply was...