Romance Is Dead

The idea for this post arose from a conversation I had with a close, and at the time, fairly drunk friend. Elliott if you’re unsure, it’s you.

As I have mentioned before, I am not quite sure how I feel about drinking. But the evening that this chat began I experienced some of the deepest and drunkest thoughts I’ve ever heard. Thoughts to be forgotten by said friend, I imagine, after he woke from his drunken stupor the next day.

His argument, I present to you, is that death is romantic. If you’re reading Elliott do correct me if I am wrong; I got a little confused towards the end when you fell asleep mid-sentence. Charming. The idea that death can be romantic sickens me. Honestly, because I am terrified by it and I believe rightly so. The idea of stopping, ending, ceasing to exist is a phenomenon that the bravest should and do fear. Even the supposedly ‘romantic’­ examples I disagree with. James Dean, died from a road accident in a car that went on to kill a list of people in confusing and unimaginable circumstances.(look it up it's freaky). A haunted car, the death car. ‘So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight’. Now, I do not disagree with the fact it is an intriguing story, emotion evoking, discussion worthy, but is it romantic? If he had driven slower, acted with caution, James Dean may not have died. But then would he be as famous?

The idea of slowly drifting away does not make me view death as romantic but disturbing. Lurking, surrounding, engulfing us at our weakest. The romance is lost from the deceptive nature of death and its selfishness. Life becomes too great a burden and then that’s it. But perhaps I am being small minded. I am trying to understand the idea, but I just don’t buy it.

Dying cannot be romantic. You end. For me, it is as simple as that. Given the choice, I would want to be cryogenically frozen or immortal. I have long considered the negatives like watching your family and friends die, having to adapt to the new world and so on. Though that does not deter me from the purest fact; I don’t want to die ever.

A little morbid, but something to think about.

Thanks Elliott.