"There once was a tiger-striped cat.
This cat died a million deaths and
was reborn a million times
...and was owned by various people
who he didn't care for.
The cat wasn't afraid to die...
The cat was a free cat,
A stray cat.
He met a white female cat,
And the two cats spent their days happily together,
Well, years passed by,
and the white cat died of old age.
The tiger-striped cat
cried a million times,
and then died
It never came back to life..."
I look at this and wonder.
When will it be time for me to finally let go and not be owned by anyone?
And the moment that I do, have I resigned myself to the same fate?
Am I just a being that lives a life filled with unemotional pleasures who never really lives until it finds some sort of personalized truth to hold on to?
"I'm not afraid of dying, I'm afraid of not trying..." - Jay-Z