In the midst of life or death. [flash-fiction]

I read this quote in a book the other day: “In the midst of life we are in death…in the midst of death we are in life.” and instantly felt a connection to what it was saying and so had to write something about it… 

We tread through the long string of streets and stairs to places unknown. We let ourselves follow this imaginary line as if we ourselves are tied to a string. We’re pulled and yanked into different directions. Unconsciously. Subconsciously. It’s hard to know where we’re going when we have no control.

But in this moment we feel the warmth of the sun on our backs as if we’re guided by our inner strength and happiness and our own power to defy the universe. But what if we’re not? What if we’re just a mechanical object born to feel like they can feel but they can’t? What if we’re simply the opposite of what we think we are and so are, in fact, a paradox? Would that mean that we’re not really anything at all? Would that mean we’re simply a concept?

When you feel like you’re pushing yourself forward ask yourself, are you really being pulled? Are you moving forward into life and yet simultaneously being pulled by a force outside of you that makes it really nothing of your own doing at all?

Because sometimes I tread through the long strings of streets and stairs to places unknown and I don’t really feel like me at all. It’s like the whole world is moving around me – blurred voices and funny figures – and I’m a ghost between the madness. Sometimes I tread through these streets and wonder if in the midst of life we are in death. Or if in the midst of death we are in life.

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