Expect dying of a cancer i don't know from what death can free you so make you happier.
http://en.wikipedia....ki/The_Immortal
Living. Are you sure it won't make you sadder?
Read, enjoy. I know I did 30 years ago at the ripe old age of 16. And, wrt Borges, don't stop there.
Living as a solitary Immortal in a world of mortality would be the worst tragedy imaginable. Your friends growing old and dying, everyone you know dying around you in what seems to you the blink of an eye, death, death, death everywhere you look, with you alone being forever seperate and ever alone. It would be hell.
Living as a Immortal among your fellow Immortals is nowhere near comparable.
To be blunt fatboy, if you hate the idea of living forever, why are you still alive? Could it be that secretly you really don't want to die, but you can't shake your obsession with it? Could it be that you are simply too afraid that immortality won't be possible that you cannot bring yourself to hope it will? Or could you be afraid of being one of those left behind, aging and dying while the immortal young forget about you?
Live is sadness, it is pain, and it is suffering. In the words of the Dread Pirate Robets, "Any one who says differently is selling something."
But life is also joy, and beauty, and love. Light and Darkness, Ying and Yang, Good and Bad. We need them both to be able to experience life fully. If we never cried, we would never learn to smile. If we never lost, we would never appreciate winning.
I have lost loved ones to death, and none of them will ever walk this earth again. I have lost friends. I have lost casual aquaintances. I have seen them suffer, I have seen them go in the blink of an eye. I have watched as alzhimers claimed first my grandparents on my fathers side and then on my mothers. I sit now awaiting the news I know will come at any time that my beloved grandmother, who is even now losing her battle against alzhimers, has finally died. I will never be able to taste my Nanny's chili pie, or shiver at the delightful flavor of my Grandma's MaltChocolate milkshakes. I will never again be able to go fishing with my Uncle Joe, or be able to show Papa and Grandpa how much I've grown as a artist. I will never get to sit and talk with my buddy Walt, or be able to debate politics and world events with my Mother in law. Before long even my Grandmother in law will be gone.
All of these people touched my life in ways I can never repay, and never will be able to, no matter how long I may live. They gave me hope, and love, and kindness, they taught me how to laugh and how to hold my head high and be proud of being myself. They taught me how to live and more importantly, they taught me how to appreciate being alive.
I have enormous reasons to be depressed, and I currently have an appointment to see a doctor due to the severity of my depressions, and the fact that it is often times so severe that suicide seems like the only option. In all likelihood I am soon going to be on medicines to stabilise my severe depressive episodes. But despite the hopelessness and dispair I feel during these times, one thing and one thing alone has kept me from stepping in front of a semi.
And those are the words of my Nanny, my father's mother. "There are always going to be good times and bad times. But no matter what, no matter how bad the bad times are, they won't last forever. Sooner or later, the Sun always comes out of the clouds."
And that wonderful, kind, and loving woman fought death tooth and nail. Three heart attacks, two strokes, and alzhimers couldn't slow her down. She held on for nearly ten years after the doctors said she had a year to live. It took Pnuemonia to finally kill her. Congestive heart failure in her sleep.
In all my family, she's the only one who really understood me. As much as I loved and am sad I will never see all the others I have lost, she is the one I miss most. It is her voice I hear when the darkness in my head is screaming loudest, telling me the Sun always comes out of the clouds.
She survived the Great Depression, and both world wars. She survived an alcoholic and abusive husband, finally getting him to stop drinking and abusing her. She raised seven children, and got to see their children and grandchildren. She celebrated her fiftieth wedding anniversary with over a hundred members of her family attending. She saw the Berlin wall raised, and she got to see it fall. She watched the first man on the moon, and the first shuttle launch. She got to ask who shot JR, as well as wonder who shot JFK. She raised roses and citrus trees and kids with equal kindness and care and grace. And she lived life to the fullest right up to her very last day, and died with a smile.
Did dying give her life meaning? I know for a fact she never thought so. Living was what gave her life meaning. Living and loving and laughing, through good times and bad, through happiness and sadness, living for the simple joy of being alive. She never gave up, and never gave in. She never let life break her and never let it get her down.
Because the Sun always comes out of the clouds.
She was 92 the day she died, and if it had been up to her, she would have lived 90 more, and 90 beyond that, and so on, ad infinitum. She would have laughed and loved and spoiled her great^^^^grand kid rotten when they came to see their Nanny, the women who always had a smile and a special something she would make just for them. And we could sit on her swing under her rose trellis and sip hot lemon tea while we watched the sun come out of the clouds.
