The Day of Becoming A Mortal

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Finite Creatures.”

It was the day when I saw death walking in front of me, in some way. When I opened my eyes, I was laying on a sidewalk and there was a bicycle beside me. My father looked at me with some unknown expression. My sight had been deteriorating. I was either six or seven that time and not many years later, I realized that I have been dying since beginning.

I have never seen someone dying, having their last breath out while saying the ultimate closing statement which undoubtedly determines if one shall get blessing or not. One day, I had sleeping issues and wandered out at night. There was this sky expanding in a speed I could not sense, let alone count, or even simulate. I have been so stupid. A teacher told me that one star had died after several hundred years. Human also lasts about a hundred, a little more than that, or less. I am now in my twenties and I am dying.

I rushed to home and look after things I have to do before nightfall. Strangely enough, I cannot even predict when nightfall shall come. I had several plans before and now I have only one aim: to sleep with correct answer of all question while asleep.

Some said that most people have lived for only 25 years and buried long after that. There is this little spark I have been carrying around. A spark He has bestowed upon me and I have given my promise to maintain this spark until He gets it back. Death is breaking me continuously; from eye sight, hair, thinking capacity, and increasing memories. I have nothing to begin with. If not mistaken, it was twenty-years-old me who realized Him after years of ignorance.

I am dying, people.

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