Had it been me, would it even matter?
Recently, we lost one person in our highschool batch; he got hit by a big bike.
I don't like the fact that it took a certain death for me to come to realize a lot of things in my life. I don't like it one bit.
But as I listened to the eulogies being spoken during his interment, I looked back and evaluated my own existence.
You see, that guy was truly a gem. He helped people -- a lot. We weren't close, nor were we friends. I hadn't had the chance of actually getting to know him deeply because we were never put in the same class together. We just know each other by name.
But judging from the things that my friends (who are also his friends) were saying, it is no doubt that he is a great person, and he would've been a very wonderful man. He would've been a great doctor, with a genuine helping heart. He would've been a great, responsible father. A loving husband. A caring son. A model of a brother. He would've been a very great person, if he isn't already.
He had a dream, and he was on his way on fulfilling that dream. He was dead set on being a doctor. He was dead set on helping his parents. He was dead set on being the man of the family. He was a great guy.
But his life got severed early.
People mourned his loss. People shed tears for a great guy. People weeped.
And I thought to myself, had it been me who's dead, would people care? Would the church be as full during my internment as his was? Would people shed tears for me? What would people say about me when I'm gone? Was my life ever enough? Have I done something meaningful?
Questions.
I realized that between me and him? I am the one who deserves to have gone early. Why? Because I haven't done anything pretty much significant to the human race. I am nobody. I'm a selfish, shy girl who's scared of reaching out because of the fear of being hurt and being judged.
But I learned my lesson. I am now reinventing my life again. I'd try to reach out to people. I will no longer be held back by my own demons. I'll live life to the best of my abilities because this time, I learned that life IS really short.
I'd smile often, laugh more, go out, have fun, do things that'd make me happy (and in turn will make my family, friends, and other people happy). I'd enjoy life. Because really, you don't know when it is going to be too late.
However, the question still lingers. If I die young, will it even matter?
I don't like the fact that it took a certain death for me to come to realize a lot of things in my life. I don't like it one bit.
But as I listened to the eulogies being spoken during his interment, I looked back and evaluated my own existence.
You see, that guy was truly a gem. He helped people -- a lot. We weren't close, nor were we friends. I hadn't had the chance of actually getting to know him deeply because we were never put in the same class together. We just know each other by name.
But judging from the things that my friends (who are also his friends) were saying, it is no doubt that he is a great person, and he would've been a very wonderful man. He would've been a great doctor, with a genuine helping heart. He would've been a great, responsible father. A loving husband. A caring son. A model of a brother. He would've been a very great person, if he isn't already.
He had a dream, and he was on his way on fulfilling that dream. He was dead set on being a doctor. He was dead set on helping his parents. He was dead set on being the man of the family. He was a great guy.
But his life got severed early.
People mourned his loss. People shed tears for a great guy. People weeped.
And I thought to myself, had it been me who's dead, would people care? Would the church be as full during my internment as his was? Would people shed tears for me? What would people say about me when I'm gone? Was my life ever enough? Have I done something meaningful?
Questions.
I realized that between me and him? I am the one who deserves to have gone early. Why? Because I haven't done anything pretty much significant to the human race. I am nobody. I'm a selfish, shy girl who's scared of reaching out because of the fear of being hurt and being judged.
But I learned my lesson. I am now reinventing my life again. I'd try to reach out to people. I will no longer be held back by my own demons. I'll live life to the best of my abilities because this time, I learned that life IS really short.
I'd smile often, laugh more, go out, have fun, do things that'd make me happy (and in turn will make my family, friends, and other people happy). I'd enjoy life. Because really, you don't know when it is going to be too late.
However, the question still lingers. If I die young, will it even matter?
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