Bench

Yet another empty bench.

I have always felt comfortable with death and far too often I find myself seeking solace amongst the departed. Its not that I have suicidal tendencies. I am just envious of the serenity that the departed have found. No more choices, no more decisions. Once again, I find myself back at this bench, with the names of those that have gone in glory ascribed around me; This time alone. I let out an existentialist sigh; Sartre would have been proud. For I know too well that to choose is to be free and to choose is to live.