Dead Men Walking

I have seen many a dead man walking.

You've seen them, too. The commonly used term is "coasting." Look up the dictionary definition of "to coast" and you'll find that it means to slide, to ride a wave, to let something else carry you through life towards death. It's a frivolous word for what is really a horrible and tragic thing.

It has always been obvious to me that there really ARE two kinds of people in the world - no, seriously, hear me out on this one: there are people who coast through life, and people who MOVE through life. And the difference is striking, if not always clear. The people who move are happier. They know what they want and they're dedicated to getting it; they're not afraid to love and live and occasionally fight losing battles. They're driven, calm, happy, and you just can't put them down. They won't let you.

And then there are the people who coast. The confused, angry, sad, depressed, downtrodden people who don't know what it is to live. They are the weak, the unhappy, the unmotivated; people who sit upon the crests of a wave and let themselves be deposited on whatever shore it carries them to. They don't have dreams.

Think about that. They don't have dreams.

Why would anyone choose such a thing?

Consider how we are brought into this world. We're safe in our mother's womb, warm and protected and content to drift in sleepy silence forever. Then it HAPPENS, and we're thrust out kicking and screaming and bawling and covered in blood and tissue and hands grabbing us and - augh. Not the most blissful of beginnings, though it's how all human lives begin. If we never came out, never took that first breath of life, we'd never get to experience the things that we do. We wouldn't get to see the sky. We wouldn't know the moon. We wouldn't know the feeling of the sun on our face and the wind in our hair and the rain on our skin. We wouldn't know love, friendship, honesty, courage. We wouldn't see smiles. We wouldn't hear laughter.

So now, after you've come out of the darkness and lived for ten, fifteen, twenty, forty some odd years on this earth as a creature that breathes, walks, smiles, lives - if you could, if such a thing were possible... would you choose to go back?

You probably wouldn't.

Maybe some people would.

If you don't come out, if you go back in... you won't know war. You won't know blood or pain. You'll never see sadness, shock, or anger on a loved one's face. You'll never have the chance to lie. You won't witness the atrocious acts that humans are capable of performing on one another. You won't lose loved ones, because you won't have any. They can never betray you, leave you, hurt you, because they don't exist. You'll be alone in the dark near-silence, protected and insulated from the outside world.

In other words, you'll be safe.

If you don't try, if you don't risk anything, if you stay in the womb, if you coast through life never really bothering to live it... you'll be safe.

Why? Why do we long for safe so much? And more importantly... is it worth it? Is it worth it to never feel love, to never see the night sky in all its glory, to never witness a sunrise and breathe the cold air of morning and think I'm alive?

You be the judge. It's a harder decision than one might think. Living has risks, and sometimes you lose not only the battle, but the entire war. Live, and you will know pain. If there was a contract of life, that would be the first clause. Right now, as you're reading this, you have already signed that contract. You can live with the pain and the freedom of being alive... or you can try to escape back to safety by any means possible.

It's the difference between existing and living. It's your choice.

And I hope, whoever you are, that you never become a dead man walking.