How do you live when all you live for is death?

Today, I received a death news that felt so near yet so far. 

My paternal uncle who all my life I have grow accustomed to that whenever hearing any news about him is never a good one, who becomes the black sheep of the family that everyone seems to never talk about but also everyone keeps talking about. Often, being the receiving end of a death news is never a pleasant scenario, but I was surprised of how nonchalant I was at his. 

How do you react to that? I never know how. I, who usually is very empathetic and absorbs others emotion almost sponge-like, hearing someone who has actual blood relation with me to have left this world and I somehow almost feel close to nothing. I just thought, oh death, you come again. Never late, but always a surprise. 

And ironically then I thought of how hard I cried for Jonghyun's passing. For days and for weeks, I wept and mourn him in my heart although he was miles away from me. I can't even listen to his songs for a while because he felt so close to me. So, I feel so bad, that I feel this way now. But my paternal uncle wasn't there on my internship depressive episodes, Jonghyun's songs were there on the days I put his song on loop mode because I was genuinely scared of being a clueless adult in a corporate world. So, that's why, that's why I cried for him harder, I reasoned with my brain who seemed like to never think nicely of me. 

I saw a clip of my grandmother weeping and I thought of how in contrast, death feels welcoming to me, except for this part. I think of how hurt people around me would feel when my time comes when I, myself got hurt because of them. Ironic, I know. Maybe it seems like I'm blaming everyone but never myself, but yeah, maybe I just want to do that. I want to point fingers to others so I can tell myself I'm hurting because of that thing I'm pointing at, not because of the rotten core of my existence. 

Everyday, I try hard to progress. To hustle, to do, to be. I do all that, but why, why it doesn't feel enough? Did all the older adults went through this phase too? I want to live, but will it be worth to carry all this battle scars that never seems to heal, almost always ready to be scratched accidentally and bleed all over me again. 

I might have my first therapy session ever soon. But I'm still procrastinating to click, as I always did whenever I face any inconveniences in my life. I ponder and wait as if the world will stop with me to accompany me, when all it did is just passed by me in a full sprint marathon. I hope you pray for me, to gather the courage to admit that I need help. And the hardest part, to agree to getting that help, as quoted from BoJack Horseman.

Maybe the reason I lay myself bare here is to succumb in the secrecy but also somehow secretly hoping to be found. 

Ah, irony.