Life: No One Gets Out Alive

It is guaranteed that no one gets out of life alive. This is motivation to fight for happiness, to inspire people and oneself, and to help others live healthy and happily everyday.

People are guaranteed pain, to be hurt, to lose their loved ones, and for their loved ones to lose them. Everyone will die, unless some genius figures out how to make people immortal. This is why it is important for people to make every effort to live as much as they can and to make every action count. Stress and drama can make it easy to become distracted from how important it is to live and fight for happiness and to make others happy daily, instead of making others feel miserable because they are different or have opposing views, or say something people don’t agree with, etc. This should be trivial compared to the pursuit of happiness.

People have to fight for happiness, because it is NOT guaranteed. Get off their a**es and have some fun, fight for a better world, for the people they love, to the last breath. And f**k the horde. The horde is for “baby man children.” They don’t control the individual; they only like to pretend they do. The horde are pain-feeders, because they enjoy feeding off people’s pain. There is no time to stop and study the horde. But they have to fight for their happiness, too.

I am going to drop one of my favorite poems, because I think the work covers the topic of living and happiness really well:

“Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night” ~ Dylan Thomas.

“Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” ~Dylan Thomas

 

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