To Leave a Mark

February 8, 2014, 3:00AM
I just got home from watching a late night movie screening. Me and my office-mate, Lynette, went to buy something in Vivocity after work. As usual it’s Friday, we treat ourselves to eat in a Japanese Ramen restaurant. I wanted to watch “Wolf of Wall-street” because I haven’t seen it yet but then, Lynette already did. So we ended up watching “The Book Thief”. Since it’s weekend, we took the last screening.

The Book Thief is a novel and was narrated by Death. When I say “Death”, it’s not a name of someone. It’s literally an “action or fact of dying”. Grim-reaper I think? Why am I talking about Death now? Because it’s a proven fact that we can’t control our life, at the same time as the narrator– Death. There’s no way he can control over life and death, and frequently calls upon God with, What if it’s tomorrow? on the next day? Maybe later? Who knows right? I am afraid of dying especially I haven’t done something for my family and for myself. I value my existence, and I just realize this thing when I was at 22yrs old.

Way back then when I was under my parents’ control, all I think is freedom. I want to get out and live independently. We’ve been there, done that. The point where we rage and get mad to our parents about their words: “We are right!”. How am I positioning myself to the movie? Death, parents, family and friends. For me, I always want to settle things before I leave. I don’t want to put a mark that something is missing. I also believe to the saying: “Pen is mightier than a sword”. Through all these years passed by, what was written in a piece of paper will be a mark to liberty. Each content was crafted by the author that even they were long gone, they are remembered.

As for me, Death will come to my life. So before I met him at the crossroad, I want to do everything that I can possibly do. I won’t waste every opportunity and privilege. I’m 23 years old at the moment of writing this current blog post. Life is too short, I was once a student before, trying to rush things, now I want to slow it down. How ironic isn’t it? Maybe it’s a part of growing up.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *