April 19, 2006

Timmy had an unfortunate life.

It started when he was ten. He was in school, doing his damndest to ignore the teacher, when he started coughing. And coughing. And coughing, long and hard, until he collapsed upon the ground.

The next few years were a blur. He was diagnosed with one illness after another. And allergy after allergy – they numbered in the triple digits. He was allergic to foods, to clothing, to living things, to inanimate objects. Plants, animals, minerals – a countless swarm of mundane lethality that threatened to end his life should he be exposed to their humbling banality.

And so it was he was kept safe and secure in a special medical center (his parents were wealthy), learning from private tutors and bereft of friendship and fun.

Life went on… and Timmy was miserable.

Some say that those in Timmy’s state have a choice. They can choose to let the danger of the world confine them to safety and sorrow. Or they can choose to confront that danger head on, and brave all the suffering it entails. Some 5%, perhaps, that choose that route shall survive intact, and more than intact – they shall emerge purified and cleansed of weakness. Stronger, superior – made ready to achieve the impossible. Made ready to embrace life at its fullest.

Of the rest, some 90% shall die entirely to dust clouds and pollem and bee stings. But they will at least have faced their fears, rather than sleep away their existence behind the doors of a cage.

Timmy had heard this theory. And slowly, his resolve grew. When he came of age and personal guardianship, he left his parent’s sturdy, silent bunker. He went to walk upon the land and swim upon the ocean. He choose to live – and by this I do not mean he chose the base and simple survival of safety, but rather the vibrant, intense experience of LIFE!

Unfortunately, he fell into the rarely discussed 0.02% whom get eaten by sharks.

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