Life's like that, sometimes...

It is true I have often been guilty of being (or at least appearing) flippant in many different types of situations, however inappropriate my flippancy might have been. It may be the part of me that my East Londoner father is responsible for, or the part of me desensitized by years of learning to kill people. Or it may, finally, actually be an acceptance of the way life is, borne from years of experience with a lot of hard knocks along the way.

I am still undecided.

Everything that has a beginning has an ending. Short or long, everything that is alive has a lifetime to finish. Living is dying as well. Death really is our only birthright in this sometimes unpredictable world. I have oft wondered these past few years why our society insists on hiding it away like it is some type of failure, filing it into places like hospitals, morgues, funeral homes and cemetaries. It's like death has become a spectator sport to distance ourselves from, to gaze upon with the same type of curiousity that one would have watching to see if someone would jump when they are standing on the edge of somewhere high.

You know you would watch too. But what would you be thinking?