Reading countless philosophies on death, where the bars of wisdom are set to be apologizing with some and forgiving others on the deathbed, I disagree with these tantrums of the shambolic world, when I’d be losing control over my muscles, when I’d be knowing about the closeness of death after exhaling and knowing the breath I’m going to intake will kiss my lungs for the last time, sliding through a tube narrowed and choaked passing by a hole in my throat, with an awakened soul unable to turn the tables aside, the only thought left with me would be, have I been able to forgive myself, the internal dialogue I to hold within me, If the answer is yes, then I believe a smile will grace my lips, with a last exhale, a symbol of my acceptance of death as the natural conclusion of life, and a celebration of the memories that I have created.