Reflection Paper

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Finally, I regain consciousness and light floods into my eyes. I lift my head, which feels as heavy as my old school bag on the first day of year 7, but somehow concurrently soothing and look around at my surroundings. I am alone. There are no clocks in the white-walled, claustrophobic room, but somehow I know and have known the time for a while. Albeit recently waking up from what I can only describe as a self-induced coma, my gut as well as my current physical and mental state tells me that it is time to die. Many people’s contention on death is that it’s the end, so much so that whenever anyone in any country, in any language, utters the dreaded word, it becomes synonymous with fear, anxiety and even suffering. Being in my current state, I could not help but refute this claim. Death happens, it’s the inevitable event that reminds us that despite wealth or status, we are all human, so why fear it? Many people, including me, have learnt this on their deathbeds and not unlike them, I will now take time to reflect on my share of the greatest gift God has bestowed upon the human race; life. When I was younger, I didn’t really know what to do with the rest of my life. My initial ideas sprung up around the age of four to five, and like most young children, they consisted of: Fireman: “Too much of a dangerous job,” says my parents. Footy Player: “Need to be actually good at the game,” says my footy coach. Prince: “Not an an actually profession, zero chance of happening,” I

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