My grandma was thin and small. When she died last winter, she huddled together and pushed into the funeral home. My aunt wailed and my uncle stood beside the transfer car with a white scarf. My dear relatives fulfilled their roles in the face of death. For a moment, I felt that life was meaningless. Suddenly, I remembered what Mr. Jin Yong had said in his book "The Story of Slaying the Dragon against the Heavens": "Burning my body, burning with fire, you can enjoy life and die without pain.". I have long had a deep-rooted obsession with death: active choice rather than passive waiting, which of course is related to self cognition. I don't want to be persuaded, and probably the rate will not change.
On the day I came back from my grandmother's funeral, I saw a message about organ donation. I think this is a good way. Although life is not satisfactory, it has not yet developed into an anti personality. Rather than accept this way of turning into ashes, I would rather be soaked in formalin to make the best of it. So I became a volunteer with the tail number of 3391 for human organ donation in China.
Buddhism said: There is nothing important except life and death. In my opinion, both of them are random events that cannot be selected. In my above cognition, they are a relief. Of course, this does not mean that I am not afraid of death, pain, joys and sorrows, loneliness and gloom, but all these are not optional, which means that you can only accept. Of course, I know that I think, so I am here. Of course, I know that when I cross the road, I instinctively look left and right. But it seems that I have come to fatalism, which also seems to be the sadness of many individuals. I died at the age of 28, and was buried at the age of 70. I am more pessimistic, and I feel I have earned at the age of 60. This is the background of my personality that I do not know when to form.
When reading history books, we can often see such descriptions: A army slaughtered B army, 100000, B army pit C army, 300000. These figures are all life, nameless and nameless. In the torrent of history, the powder is not a single particle, rolling forward, invisible in the wind, and wet in the rain. And will we be in this turbulence now?
My friend expressed his concern vaguely. Of course, I am not indifferent. Ten years ago, we tested whether the keyword Liu Xiaobo was blocked by SMS messages. Ten years later, we could see how many Chinese characters have become Pinyin abbreviations. What can you do? Delete some words, clear a little microblog, keep quiet, and do nothing! When the torrent came, at first you fell, then your opponent fell, and finally most of the "digital people" fell. When the wheels rolled over, it was just a second earlier or a second later. At best, I can only hope that medicine will not make too much progress. By the time I am 60 years old, Vladimir Vladimir Putin has not died.
If you hold pessimism for a long time, you will not be too disappointed. If you think about the end, you will not be too afraid.
You and I are just a binary bit in a human computer.
Gentlemen encourage each other
