.: Of Death and the Joys Of Life :.

The Reaper visited me again last night. This is the second time he has visited me, the first being when I was about 14 years old and I fell through the ceiling, nearly breaking my neck in the process.

He was deathly quiet as usual, but his message was lucid and forthright: Quit smoking, or he will be back very, very shortly, and this time he won't be as kind. You see, the nagging chest ache developed into a full fledged, throbbing pain attack with each breath.

When Death was right beside you, strange things do happen. First, you get revelations and flashbacks about the rights and wrongs in your whole life. Then, you start to fear a thousand things at once. You fear that you are unable to fulfill your purpose of life, you fear for your family and loved one's grief. Fears about love. Ah.. the greatest fear of all.

I have had a great life. People who knows me would know despite my bitter complainings, acid sacarsm and my aggresive outlook, I have always been rather contented with all that I have been blessed with. And I see how much my life could only get better. So indeed, I am truly blessed, and I pledge the following now:

• I will lead my life to the fullest, giving all the joys to those who shared theirs with me
• I will give my all back to the society when I am able to

So I have decided then, that this time, I am quiting the fags for good. No more half hearted promises and words. No more "One last stick, then I'll quit" craps.

I have no doubt it is going to be hard. It is going to take a hell lot of grit, determination and pain. I have also vowed to myself now that I am determined. I am not going back to the road corrupted by nicotine and tar. I want to live.

"When death comes it is never our tenderness that we repent from, but our severity." (George Eliot, 1819-1880)