Candles.

  It's probably nothing short of plaigarism when I quote William Shakespeare's "Life's brief Candle". It's one of those poems that really stir your mind by throwing it into a blending machine. He puts it so well, he puts it so morbid, he puts it so real. I could never really wrap my head around his words back in high school. But now, as I think about his words again, I start to see them a little bit clearer. Of course, not as clear as the great poet himself, but somewhat clearer than my younger self. And that's reason enough for me to write. 

  Shakespreare poured out his thoughts on life with pen and paper. I've always been one for words and how they can invoke all sorts of images and thoughts in the depths of your imagination. Words prod and poke at your grey matter, making you think about ideas and things that are larger than you can grasp. It promotes healthy thought. Cause after all, what do we really have to call our own, other than the thoughts in our heads and the senses in our nerves?

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,

creeps from this petty pace,

To the last sylabble of recorded time,

All of our yesterdays have lighted fools,

The way to dusty death.

  I'm shambling, crawling and struggling through each day like it's another curse tied to me. The days grow less and less significant as I progress, the days mean less and less, until they eventually mean nothing to me anymore. A petty pace, as he puts it. I'm trapped in someone else's life, living someone else's dream. Study hard. Get good grades. Have a job. Make loads of money. Have a family. Grow old. Die. All I'm really doing is dying then. I'm dying, and I don't even know it.

  Society makes me feel that way sometimes. You ain't nobody till you become successful. You ain't nobody till you make loads of money. You ain't nobody till you own a big house on top of a hill and fill it with a picture perfect family that you can brag about to all your friends. And so we set out, we set out to find these things. These things we THINK will make us happy. We spend our lives chasing fast cars, fancy clothes and huge mansions all in the name of popularity. All of us not having the slightest idea, our time in this world is short.

  And the worst part is, when we impart this dreadful dogma of ours to the next generation. Our children, our grandchildren, they'll live the same lives we lived, slowly die the same way we died and regret the same things we regretted. We'll be lighting a way for them. Lighting a bunch of fools onward to their dusty deaths, where they'll tell their children to do the same. A cycle. A cycle of dusty deaths repeating itself over and over again.

Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow,
a poor player,

That struts and frets his hours upon the stage,
and then is heard no more,

it is a tale,

Told by and idiot,

full of sound and fury,

signifying nothing.

  We'd all like to think we're somewhat immortal, like each day is entitled to us, and that there will always be more days to come. That's why we live the way we do, cause there's always another chance tomorrow, isn't it? Cause tomorrow, I'll finally do all the things I wanna do, I'll chase those big dreams I've always had. But only tomorrow, okay? Cause today, I feel like sitting around and think about all the wonderful and productive things I'll be doing tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.

  In a methaporic kinda way, our lives are a lot like burning sticks of candles. We're burning away, our way dripping down, drop by drop, bit by bit, until we eventually burn ourselves out and fade away, fade away into nothing. Heck, some of us don't even burn out all the way. A draft of rogue wind, a drop of cold water, that's all it takes to put us out. To put us out before we eventually burn ourselves down to nothing. Nothing but melted wax on the floor. Melted wax that no one will take notice of, that no one will remember.

  And that makes me ponder. Makes me ponder about what kind of candle I am, and what sort of candle I wanna be. Frankly, I don't want to be the candle who burns the brightest, nor do I want to be the candle who burns the longest either. When I finally extinguish myself to the ground, I wanna be the candle who says :" That was a good run." I wanna be the candle who says:" There isn't a single drop of wax I would change." I wanna burn my ass down and not regret a single damn thing.

  It's amusing really how such a short jumble of words can stir all these ideas into my head. Wheter or not they were intentional, we'll never find out now. In short, just get out there and do whatever you wanna do with your life. Maybe you'll displease some people along the way, maybe you'll break some rules. But at least, you're living a life that's honest, and you're being true to yourself. And in my opinion, that's the best damn gift you can treat yourself to. A little bit of radcial honesty. Radical honesty and hot chocolate.