08062006

Death is worse than robbery or stealing. Death steals life and unlike material things, life cannot be replaced. For me death is like taking back what’s not originally ours. We owe our life to God and there comes a time that you should give it up. It’s not frightening. Rather, it’s very wonderful. Leaving the real world is leaving illness, poverty and sufferings. It may be hard to leave your loved ones but their time is going to be soon. You’ll see them eventually.

This morning I woke up thinking about death. Not in a suicidal sense though. I’m not planning to kill myself and I don’t want to die any time soon. Nor am I contemplating murder. Rather, I’ve been pondering on how I would like to die. We all have to die sometime. Unless, of course, you happen to be a vampire or an immortal.

I would prefer to die quickly. Maybe by an accident or by violence, not in a morbid way though. I wouldn’t want to die of old age. You know… old and senile, peeing and shitting in my adult diapers with a vague, empty look in my eyes and drool hanging from my chin. Or die from disease? Ugh. I don’t want to waste away in a hospital bed suffering from complications and hooked up to machines with tubes stuck up my nose and wherever part of my body. I wouldn’t want to drown either. Can you imagine how that would feel? Not being able to breathe, your lungs burning, and water filling your chest? How long would that take? I hear about ten minutes for the average adult. And when you’re finished drowning your corpse would be bloated from the water in your stomach. Looking like those malnourished kids in Somalia. Dying from hunger. Their bodies just giving up after months of starvation. Their intestines grinding against each other. And dying in my sleep via Valium or whatever? That would be okay! Except for the fact that it’s not dramatic or spectacular enough for me. I also don’t like to be ran over by a vehicle of some sort, I don’t want pieces of me flying over some place… isn’t it bad when a part of you comes missing when you get buried? I would like to go out in a big way. Suicide is out of the question, though when I’m depressed I think of it. There’s still enough of my catholic brainwashing to keep me from entertaining THAT notion. Sometimes I think of what my funeral would be like, if all of my family, relatives and friends would be there. How many people would be there and how many of them cared for me. I have a detailed plan on what my hearse and casket would look like. It’s just different when you have planned things ahead. But I don’t want to die yet. I still have lots of things to do, things to achieve. I still have a lot of goals to pursue.  

But when I think of my death let it be LOUD! Let it be BIG! Something with an impact! Like an overdose. Or having my head cut off by a flying aluminum roof or a falling pane of glass… kidding! That’s something freaky! But I want something people remember. Being shot in a playground. In front of dozens of impressionable little children. That would ensure my memorability. The psychiatry bills those kids’ parents would be paying for years to come would be my legacy. Something to remember me by….   

by: Faith Angeli P. Estalilla (August 6, 2006)