Being alive is like being in your house, your home. You live in the comfort of consciousness and within the familiarity of reality. You waltz in and out of each room as you flit in between different aspects of your life - work, family friends - and every now and then something grows in each room as you get older. However, when it is time for all of it to end, you know it is time to step out the front door and never return. As you approach the door, the walls crack and the ceiling leaks. The colour begins to melt away and the furniture, the memories, start to creak and break down. How does it feel to open that door and look out into the unknown? How does it feel to put one foot out the door but still have the other one still inside, clinging to life? But when you let go and relinquish your life to its mortality, is there not a final merge of life with death as you slip out the door? How does it feel to let go of life and venture into death?
xx
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