Definition of Life and Memories.

Bunch of people are dying lately, and now it affects the close ones of my friends. With no doubt, they are devastated and broken. I guess it’s human nature to keep whining and complaining about calamities they had faced, thus for now I’m going to show you guys something which had left in his diary by someone who died three months ago.

Seconds and minutes and hours, days and weeks and months, why is time passes so fast when it’s happy, and stagnates when it’s in torment? Because of this silly reason, I stopped smiling and make use of every second of my life to not to be happy, wishing the time can stagnate in this moment forever.

One year ago, we were having so much fun in school, we had done so much, and now so little to be written, life is just like a fairy tale, although it never exist. Now I had a little problem with me, it took the life out of me, and I couldn’t make a second smile any more.

What hurt me was not the pain, which was the painstakingly cruel fact in life. When our time has come, do we have no choice but to give up everything that we have? I’m starting to believe that life is just a dream, we can’t occupy something forever, similarly we can’t love someone forever.

I’m having this little problem here, which deprives me of sighting and hearing. It is not death, it is something a little worse than death I suppose. What live in me is just me and my mom beside me, who gave life to this diary.

As I said I am reluctant to be happy even for a while, now the despicable time has brought me to another end of my life, and I’m just waiting for this dilapidated and deteriorated house to just fall upon me, and let this just end for once and for all

The diary was written by a woman called Jessi, she had some disease which impair her ability to listen and see, and thus she had lost her friends because she couldn’t see and know who approached her, moreover she couldn’t even listen to any words her friends had spoken. Fortunately, there was someone who actually approached her and lived with her to give her accompany. Hence she lived with someone without having known of his or her’s companion look, nor they did not live with words, they communicated by touch that’s all.

The last paragraph was written by her about 50-60 years later, where she wrote (with help of someone) that happy moments just dash too quickly till that even for a handicapped person like her, time still passes with the same pace.

So, guys, what do you think? feeling lucky?