Times are strange. They always are. And there’s no such thing as life, by the way, for there’s no such thing as death. Black is black cause white is white. They both imply each other, and we know them by contrast.
But being dead is not an experience one can have. It’s not a feeling like sadness or happiness. It is, frankly, completely fucking impossible to know what it’s like being dead (for pretty obvious reasons).
Ergo: being alive’s not an experience one can have. There’s just no such thing as “being alive” for there’s simply no such thing as “being dead”.
It’s all just words. And we’re enslaved by them.
Time to break free.