AM THE DEATH

Life is, by its very nature, a journey of growth and vitality. Every living being is expected to strive for health, happiness, and purpose. But as I look at myself, I feel as though I am different, as though life for me has always held a strange twist. I have always felt more like a walking corpse, existing in a world that slowly chips away at me, leaving behind only a hollow shell.

People see death as the final act, the last breath. And while I agree that it is the ultimate end, I often wonder if I am already there, caught in a limbo where my life is driven by forces that quietly erode my spirit. My existence seems woven with disease, affliction, and an invisible burden that never lightens. I have come to know my body, and in knowing it, I have come to see how delicate my existence is—how each day feels like a step closer to that final breath. I am caught in a paradox: alive, yet slipping closer to an end that looms over me like a shadow.

The cause of my suffering remains unknown to me. My body bears ailments that have no name, afflictions that science cannot decipher, diseases that even the most skilled healers struggle to understand. Perhaps they were with me since birth, or maybe they grew over time, symptoms of a world that weighs down on me. Politics, science, religion, and the ever-demanding lifestyle of modern society push me to the margins. Each new belief or practice, each law or expectation, seems designed to mold me into something I do not recognize, forcing me to leave behind my roots, my dignity, and my tradition.

I question the world around me, hoping to find answers. What is politics if it only binds me to systems that do not serve me? What is science if it cannot heal what I feel? What are religions that speak of salvation yet condemn me to endless suffering? What is lifestyle when it makes me forget who I am? Each question only deepens my awareness that I am a target, an unwilling participant in a complex web of systems, organizations, and mechanisms that seem to feast on my energy, my essence.

I see the little things around me, things that seem trivial, yet are erasing me bit by bit. I am caught in habits, in patterns of living that leave me vulnerable. I know that each action, each interaction with the world, is slowly draining my life away. A sip from a glass filled with toxins, a breath of air laced with poisons, a life where my choices seem predetermined—all of it weaves a shroud around me, a shroud I cannot escape.

I am the death that lives within life, a reminder that life itself is fragile. I walk among the living, but I feel like a vessel slowly breaking down, my existence scattered in pieces by the demands of a world that consumes as it creates. I am not alive, not truly. I am a shadow of what life could be, held together by the barest thread of hope that perhaps, one day, I will break free from this death that lingers in life.

A Walking Corpse

You might look at me and see beauty—a face painted with charm, a body that moves with grace. From the outside, I seem alluring, even magnetic, drawing others in with a glow that only the surface holds. But if you could see past this facade, you’d find the truth beneath it all: I am decaying, rotting from the inside.

Outwardly, I am alive. I laugh, I move, I smile; I play the part well. But within me, there is darkness, a silent and invisible rot that slowly gnaws at me. Beneath this attractive exterior is a hollowness that cannot be healed by makeup, smiles, or kind words. My beauty is but a mask, a cover to hide what lies within.

Yet there is another side to me—a side no one sees but me. I am ugly outside, worn by the world, but my soul is sound, whole, and vibrant. I carry scars on my face, but my heart is unscarred. I am as alive as anyone, perhaps even more so, because I know what it is to live without needing to shine or impress. The world sees only the surface and often turns away, yet inside, I am unbroken, deeply alive, and grounded.

In a world obsessed with surfaces, I am a contradiction. A walking corpse from the outside, yet in my depths, I am full of life. Life’s meaning doesn’t live on the skin; it breathes in the heart and the soul. And so, I walk on, holding my inner beauty in a world that only sees the surface. I am both life and death, beauty and decay—a walking reminder that what’s real can never be captured by appearances alone.

Faith Versus Fate

Faith and fate—two powerful forces, each carrying its own meaning and mystery. Faith is the belief in something greater, a trust in possibilities that are unseen. Fate, on the other hand, is often seen as destiny, a path laid out before us, unchanging and inevitable. But when these two meet, an intriguing balance emerges.

They say, “Faith without works is dead,” and it’s true. Belief alone cannot bring dreams into reality without action. Faith asks us to trust, but it also demands that we take steps, that we push forward and work to see our visions take shape. Without our effort, faith fades, becoming no more than a wish in the dark.

Now, consider fate. Fate is often viewed as something fixed, a line we are destined to follow. But when we add work to fate, it becomes life itself. The belief that our paths are predestined can hold us back, but when we approach fate with effort, we give it shape, direction, and purpose. Fate then becomes not an end but a canvas, one that we paint through our choices and actions.

So, if faith without work is dead, then fate with work is life. We live in the interplay between believing and doing, between what might be written for us and what we choose to write ourselves. Faith can guide us, but fate with effort transforms into a journey we actively shape. Together, faith and fate remind us that while life may have a path, we have the power to walk it boldly, making each step truly our own.

Positivity and Negativity

I stand at the center of all attractions, surrounded by forces that pull me in different directions—drugs, spirits, people, medicine, food, drinks, and more. I am both powerful and powerless, holding sway over the lives of others, yet often unable to control my own.

I am the force that people chase or resist, the energy that either lifts or consumes. I am the high of positivity, the rush of good feeling, and the warmth of hope. But I am also the shadow, the weight of negativity, and the burden of despair. Both sides course through me, and my existence balances on the razor’s edge between the two.

If I live differently than you, if my choices veer from your own, do not judge me for it. Just as you choose your way, I choose mine, guided by my own desires, fears, and struggles. I am shaped by forces that are beyond what anyone can see, and my actions are mine alone.

We all stand between light and dark, positivity and negativity, pulled by invisible strings that make us who we are. I cannot be what you expect me to be, nor can I always resist the pull of what attracts me. I am what I am—a blend of strength and weakness, brightness and shadow. If you see me fall, know it’s part of the journey; if you see me rise, know it’s part of the same path. In the end, I walk my own way, just as you do.