Death, my best friend

Death is not the enemy. He is the oldest friend we spend our whole lives pretending not to know. And of all the friends you will ever have, he is the only one who tells you the truth every single day: your time is finite, and that is exactly what makes it priceless.

We hide from him, and in hiding we sleepwalk — postponing the call, the apology, the leap, the love, as if the days were endless. They are not. It is precisely because this moment will not come again that it is worth everything. The end is what gives the story its meaning.

Make peace with him, and something strange happens: the fear loosens its grip and life grows louder, brighter, more real. He does not come to frighten you. He comes to remind you to live — now, fully, while you still can.

Do not fear the end.
Let it teach you how to begin.