You are disposable

How can you not see that you are disposable? How can you not know that?

You will exit. Your time will be up before you are ready to bow out. And the sun will continue to rise and scorch bald heads. And it will set in it's ever magnificent splendour, bewitching the souls of many an art lover. The wind will blow lazily over your tomb and rage ferociously at it's sole pleasure.

They say water remembers, water always remembers. But who are you, that it remembers you before it does those whose remains are now coral; whom the seas so intimately knew. Water washes off from memory. Water will angrily wipe away all traces of your existence.

Because the elements were here in service of this earth. Like faithful soldiers forever marking time. Even fire will refuse to acknowledge your scent. The earth will not pause to acknowledge you termination. How can you not see that?

Souls more deserving of life than yourself have been shut off. Lives more meaningful than you deem your own to be. People more useful than yourself have reached their end. Everyone dies. You will, before you are ready to.

Now is all you have.