It is that same optimistic pessimism. That ephemeral, translucent feeling..which gives me life and meaning. When taken to the extreme, the world becomes cold. Everything fades. Who I am ceases to be, and in my place, a force of absolute clarity emerges, in the realization that in the grand scheme, nothing matters.

I have witnessed this happen. I have watched myself die. Time and time again have I, sat back and wondered why it is that I cannot stop this sequence of events,
  from unfolding in front of me. When clarity strikes and I realize that the man I have been does not matter anymore, just as before,
I wonder,
Why?

I have talked to my fellow man on the subject. I have come to know their mannerisms, their discomforts, their quieted discussions hushed for fear that insanity looms, and I have grown to assume the worst of them..that in the end, most are blind to the truth of these deaths.

Subtle in nature and slow in their pace, these key moments race to define who we are by summarizing who we have been up to the point of contact with them. From that point of derision, a part of our life is forever etched in memory, wether we remember or not.

After a period of time, who we are can no longer be defined by any measure of who have been. We are a collection of key moments, fractures and schisms form the face for what we have become. In the end, a personality template, made whole by the mention of a few distant names, certain days are remembered forever, while others fade away into obscurity.

We are nothing but the deaths of who we once were, compounded from birth to keep us interesting.