When I was in my depression episode around 2 years ago, I thought about killing myself all the time. However, the only thing that kept me from doing it was the thought about my family after I die, thinking that they will be so sad, crying, stomping the ground while cursing the invisible creator that had allowed this to happen, just like when my eldest sister die when she was giving birth to her first baby girl. That feeling is horrible, and the pain of knowing that they will go through it for the second time is greater than my depression itself. My life is not of my own, but of those who loves and cares about it too.
My life is about discovering, and death is a very interesting thing to be discovered. I’ve discovered so many things in life. Some that I experienced myself, some are shared by others who had discovered them early on. But death, you got to have it yourself.
Though death is an extremely interesting subject, I let Time to decide when I’ll meet him. When the time has come, I wish that nobody in this world still care so much about me anymore, so I can have a blank page as my eulogy.