How Death Taught Me to Live

I was sixteen when I first heard of logarithmic functions. I memorized song lines off our graduation song, I entered the portal of USC-TC for the very first time, I passed Sir Cabatingan's interview and I met the most amazing and smart people I'm lucky to call friends now, all at the age of sixteen.

My cousin lost his life at the same age.

When I first heard about it, I immediately put off everything that I had planned for that day. School works were towering but at the sound of the news I just sat on one corner. I thought for a few seconds about the time we had spent together. I spent another few seconds thinking about how my uncle and aunt must be feeling right then. I spent a couple of minutes pondering about how sickness is a cheater and how life is short.

I am now twenty years old.

I can say that my life has took a 180 degree turn ever since my cousin passed away. Although we lived far away from each other, even if we weren't that tight, his death taught me a lesson I seem to have forgotten along the way - to live. To take risks, to have fun, to enjoy my youth, to go out with friends - these were all overshadowed by my ambitions to be great, to be a success, to rise above everyone else as if all living ever was is a competition.

Twenty and almost a half years old, to be exact.

I still have but a lot to learn. But these will come in their own time. Right now, what's important is I am smiling. I laugh. I talk to my friends. We have misunderstandings. I keep a healthy amount of insecurity. I treasure a modest amount of pride. I love my family. I believe in God. And I still hate leaching.

I live.

I posted this piece in Steemit too, I hope you can check it out here.