By VeNgeR GrEenTag
Life, Death, and the Brutality of Time
Culture is full of trends, tendencies, and perceptions. It’s clear that the older generations will die — there’s no escape. Then come ours, then ours after that. That’s life.
Life is parasitic — it consumes you to the core. You can scream, tear at your nerves, even cry, but the truth is: photographs show a past that “was” and a future that “won’t be”.
That’s why every week I attend a support group and see a psychologist. Talking, writing, and venting alone aren’t enough — 2025 has been a heavy year.
2025 — The Year of Loss
2025 is:
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The year of problems
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The year of death
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The year of despair
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The year of silence
The apartment from now on will be filled with silence — no snoring, no humming. Yes, it’s exhausting at times, but life forgives.
Life says:
"Go fuck yourselves, little humans."
You search for answers from life, but it has no customer service. 😅🤣😂
The Casting of Life
There are people:
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Crazy
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Believers
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Workers
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Normal
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Married
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Alone
This is life’s casting. The projection has no doubles — it records everything together with the original. Life is messy, sometimes ruthless, sometimes hopeless. The formula: in the end, it fucks you over, and there’s nothing you can do.
My grandfather died at 10:30. A few minutes later, I spoke with my mother.
An hour later, up to two hours max, she arrived.
Life forces you to take a taxi, to bury the remnants of loved ones, who in the past meant something and in the future are walking chaos.
Emotions and Loss
Grief? Irritation? Both.
Yes, my grandmother will rest, and her responsibilities are lighter, but the village is a path that may never be reached.
Empty promises, delays, procrastination — that’s what the village became.
While my father was alive, the village had structure and care. He died, and everything started to decay.
Death is such that humor disappears, sadness grows, depression grabs you by the throat, and your thoughts forgive nothing.
Death as Fact
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My grandfather died with food in his mouth.
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God didn’t say: “Wait until he finishes eating, then die”.
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He just said: “Go ahead. Pack your things.”
The life of the elderly stops:
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Pension
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Money
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Medicine
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Checkups
Appetite, desire, and energy die.
Comedy and Survival
Having fun? That’s exactly what comedy says.
But what if you’re broken?
If going outside only leads to deep depression?
If every place tells a story that has already ended?
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My father won’t pick me up in his Mercedes.
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I’ll probably never be rich with a fancy car.
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My grandfather won’t be there — and even when he was, it wasn’t significant.
From this year on:
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A pension won’t be collected
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A life will be honored
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A place will remain empty
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A path will be walked for the last time
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A heartbeat will stop forever and decay
Life as Rehearsal
Life is rehearsal.
With people, and always, something unexpected happens.
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Outside, there are countless grandfathers.
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But that’s not my grandfather.
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I buried him.
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I live.
I treated him poorly, as did others. We admit it — it feels lighter. We were trash.
Money, Work, and the Countryside
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Pension — enough to not die.
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Salary — enough to go somewhere and call it a break.
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Advance — “Give me money now”.
Then: 13 shifts, 3 jobs, low social contributions.
Promises at work, promises in marriage — if you don’t fulfill them, there are no breaks, and the money shrinks.
Time, Sleep, and Lessons
Sleep is for losers.
The wealthy can buy extra sleep.
Time moves forward — 10:50, and the message hasn’t been sent yet.
Life says:
"Pack your bag, the train is coming."
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Prepare your paper and pen, charge your phone.
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Life is conscientious with its blows — it doesn’t bury everyone at once.
Conclusion
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Life crushes, smashes, and kills.
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Every day, we put our loved ones to bed — until one day, that lying down becomes forever.
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The final decree: “Take tea, coffee, soda, a sandwich — prepare for the next scene.”
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The weak die, the emotional flee, the troubled survive.
Life doesn’t wait. Everyone dies. Everyone grieves. Guilt consumes.
Reflection
Does life care if you have shitty cards?
If you’re dissatisfied?
If you’re unhappy?
The blow is strong. Death is heavy. Arguments at home are what settle us in the end. After some time, we repeat it — rehearsing for the next act.
Every day, we lay our loved ones down, until it becomes permanent. That’s the heart speaking: “Forever.”
Life always delivers its final sentence:
"Take a cup of tea, coffee, soda, a sandwich — prepare for the next scene."
It’s absurd, tragicomic, and in the end, the weak die. Life drinks from people like a can — it’s hungry every second, demanding sacrifices hour by hour, day by day, night by night.
Life is merciless. Life is real. Life is everything.
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