Death

I’m not dead yet.

I might be cocooned, but I am not dead.  I’m not asleep either.  I feel very aware.  Waiting…  Wondering what I should do.  There is not much I CAN do… except introspect.  And write.  Starting this blog was a good idea, I think.

I will write my introspections.

So here are the observations of a person who finds himself almost completely alone.  Another word for alone is unsocial.  So I shall write about this.  But my purpose is not to complain.  I intend to express to the rest of the world where hope lies for a person like me.  There IS no hope for me on earth.  My hope is elsewhere.

Lonely Man

This is not a place for readers who are looking for stories of earthly hope.  I have no such stories to offer.  I am concerned with truth.  And the true destiny of physical man is death.

Let’s face it.  Let’s face the truth and talk about it.  Death is real.  It’s in my face and it’s in my body.  It WILL come.  In fact, what I used to be is already dead.  My old identity has expired.

I will never be a caterpillar again!  The only hope for an earth-crawler is metamorphosis.  Transformation through what some call death.  But what a paradox!  Because this “death” is our means of survival.  So why is it called death?  Simply because in the eyes of the unbeliever, this kind of transmutation requires a total detachment from physical reality.  And to the materialist, physicality is all there is.

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First blog post

I woke up this morning and decided to start a blog.  Because I finally have a clear picture of what is happening to me.  You see, I suffer from depression but there is something positive about it.  I was never able to express it.  This week, I understood.  I’m going through a major metamorphosis.

Danaus plexippus plexippus Wanderer butterfly/Monarch butterfly (Nymphalidae)

Look at me.  Hanging upside down between two worlds.  Trapped inside a cocoon which I have built for myself.  Don’t I look smart?

I look stupid, to both those who crawl on the ground and those who fly in the heavens.  But there is a still small voice inside that tells me that what I’m doing is okay.