The Beginning of the End

In a Tibetan philosophy, Sylvia Plath kinda way, we all start dying the moment we're born. This concept, translated to my endeavour to document my life, means that this task also, will ultimately meet its end. For all things come to an end. As pessimistic as my outlook towards this project may be, it is only fair that I be honest with myself - I am not one to follow through with such undertakings for long. The ability to passionately apply myself to such tasks for a long time has never been one of my better virtues. By this last statement, I am setting myself up for failure, for I have now implied that I intend to continue this for a significant period of time. If I had refrained myself from making that statement, I would have succeeded even if I were to have only one entry, for this one entry could have been deemed both the beginning and the end of this endeavour, and I would have completed this task.

The tangentiality of thought never ceases to amaze me.

All things come to an end. We begin to die from the instance we are born.

It is thus only appropriate that I entitle this first entry the beginning of the end. As I come to the end of the beginning, I take my leave, not knowing if I will ever be back.