Death

I hate death. With a vengence.

Not because I'm afraid of it; it is no mystery nor is it an unknown.

Death is simply, the absence of life.

And that's why I hate it so much, because it robs and takes away life, vivacity, passion and all that which makes it worthwhile.

Even the worst of illnesses, or poverty, or bad car crashes can only take away some health, mulnutrition, or a part of your body; but life and soul and verve still efferverses through the pain, the sufferings, the lack of a body part. There is still life, spirit, vibrancy bubbling through, coming out of every pore, every laugh, every smile, every twinkle of the eye. There is still a reason to rejoice, and to celebrate, as long there is still a spark left.

But along comes death and takes it all away, leaving only darkness, silence, oblivion.