Wherever you go, whatever you do, an armed assassin walks behind you. The nozzle presses cold against your neck. The gun is cocked the bullet ready to shatter you forever.
You have no place to run, nowhere to hide. No one can help you. The assassin's finger is always on the trigger. Always.
Why doesn't he blow you away? Not yet. But soon. At any moment. Maybe now as you're reading this. Maybe you won't finish this page, this paragraph, this sentence, this word.
How do you feel?
Probably, you say to yourself there is no assassin. No gun. No bullet. But the truth is this: the bullet has already been fired. the bullet will find you. The bullet goes through walls, beliefs, schemes- it pierces everything in its relentless journey. Your death is on it's way to you. Now.
Assassins are superfluous. Murder is superfluous. Suicide is superfluous. Life itself is all these things and then some. Death never misses. No one gets out alive.
What does death mean?
Your death, something you can do nothing about yet which you must face and face alone, unarmed, defenseless, utterly naked. It waits for you: the ultimate unknown.
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I wanted to have a written copy of this before i had to turn the book in. I couldn't find it anywhere else except in my school book.