I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of a short, fiery life. Like Rico Yan, like AJ Perez, like Julie Vega, like Marky Cielo. They all died young, left behind a legacy in their own ways that until now, still burns bright.
You may think that I’m crazy, that I’m just a kid with a bad attitude. But hear me out, I’m not talking about dying young because I’m reckless or selfish. I’m talking about dying because I want to live.
Living for 10 years and then dying at 27 isn’t about being dramatic or attention-seeking. It’s about living with purpose. It’s about making every moment count. It’s about being alive that even death can’t extinguish the flame.
I’ve seen people go through the motions of life, day in and day out; they wake up, they go to work, they come home, they eat, they watch TV, they go to bed. They’re not really living, they’re just existing.
But I want to live. I want to feel the sun on my skin and the wind in my hair. I want to taste the salt on my lips and the sweetness of a good cup of coffee. I want to laugh until my belly hurts and cry until my tears dry up.
And when my time is up, I want to leave this world with a bang. Not with a whimper or a fizzle. I want to go out with a firework explosion of color and light and sound. I want to make sure everyone knows that I lived.
