Have I done anything worthy with my life to deserve the tears of others?

I am not dying of a terminal disease. I do not expect to die within the next thirty years. I still have the prime of my life ahead of me. I cannot admit to having a world of life experiences to my name.

I fear death, and I am not ashamed to admit it. I haven't had the chance to do the things that I want to do, say the things I want to say, or feel the things I want to feel. For these reasons, I fear death.

I do not have much faith, though I wish I did. Perhaps it would teach me to believe that death is only the moving on to a better place. I believe that one day I will discover this.

I believe in Fate. I believe that life is predestined to a certain extent. When you get on a plane that crashes into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean with no survivors, how can you not believe in Fate?

Believing in Fate, reading the lines on my hand, the future does not look that lengthy for me. For that reason, I must work quickly. I feel that the quality of one's life is determined by the amount of tears that are shed in one's name. In my case, my goal is infinite. It is only with such a goal that one can truly admit to having done one's best.

I am not saying that I am perfect. I have many faults that get the better of me. I have enemies. I have bad days. I have bad hair days. I do not admit to being the epitome of morality. But I can say that I try. Whether or not I succeed is to be determined.

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