Since high school, my thoughts have often turned to death, a subject that has remained ever-present in my mind. What has changed is that I have moved from wanting to kill myself, to viewing death as a minor inconvenience.
When I’m on a flight, in that rare, temporary mood where I actually love my life, a bit of rough turbulence hits, and my brain immediately goes “This is it, it all ends here. Fucking hell, all these savings I’ll never get to spend. What a bummer”.
Or take a minor inconvenience where I spend three hours editing a video, the software crashes, there is no autosave, and my instant reaction is “No way, please don’t make me do this again, I’d rather be dead”.
Then there are the social commitments made weeks ago. The dreaded departure time is two hours out, the comfort of the couch has me in a headlock, and the internal monologue kicks in. I would honestly rather die than leave this house.
Other times, I’m putting off something important, and a sudden, blunt flash of “The clock is ticking, you don't have much time before you drop dead” is the only thing that shocks my priorities into order.
The prospect of death always lurks in the background when I consider things. It makes me question my reasons for making art. Is it just so I’m not erased the second I’m gone? Do I need to leave a legacy before I die?
Or why I go out of my way for people. Why do I say yes to plans I hate, or bite my tongue just to keep the peace? Am I subconsciously auditioning people for my deathbed? Trying to fill seats at my future funeral? To what extent am I being influenced by this?
So yes, depending on the hour, death is either an overreaction, an escape route, a deadline, or an existential concern. But my favourite way of thinking about death is pure hopium - a stubborn hope that my departure is still far away, because honestly, I’m just too damn curious about the future. Curious to see what life is going to throw at me next.
Fortunately, that feeling of curiosity appears rarely. It is such a profound experience, and I appreciate its scarcity. It usually sneaks up on me while I'm watching something. The setup is always identical - I’m buried under a blanket on the sofa, a couple of pillows propping up my back, my fiancee next to me, both of us immersed in whatever is playing on the TV.
And then, out of nowhere, it hits. A line of dialogue delivered with devastating accuracy. A perfect cut. A shot that leaves me in awe, or a twist that breaks my head. My immediate, involuntary thought is always the same. I am so glad I’m alive right now to experience this.
You can get a taste of this while travelling, sure, but art is different. Unlike nature, which is beautiful by chance, art is deliberate. What makes me connect is the sheer presence of another person’s mind. An animator obsessing over a frame, an actor nailing the line on the tenth take, a director choosing the silence over a score, or a writer tying up a thread they planted three hours ago. I have the utmost respect for every craftsman.
I want to stay alive for as long as possible because I want to see what else people are capable of cooking up. What surprises await? I want to see how they will force me to see through their eyes.
Video has always held a special grip on me for that reason. It’s a challenging medium. Exceptional work depends on everything pulling together - sound design, lighting, performance, pacing and writing. When it works, you can feel the human competence behind it. You know that someone cared enough to put countless hours into creating it. The end product has a soul that you can touch, and in return, it will touch you back.
Recently, something else has given me that exact same feeling, a feeling of quiet amazement. Another reason not to die anytime soon.
Language models. Next to the internet itself, nothing has fascinated me quite like this. I don't use them in extreme ways - mostly as a companion for curiosity, and a mirror to my own thoughts. But even as a mirror, the reflection looking back isn't just mine. It’s thousands of people who figured something out, argued about it, and wrote it down long before I showed up with a prompt. It’s the collective ingenuity of humankind, compressed into a dialogue. If a tool can bring me closer to understanding the world and myself, I want to stick around to see how far it can go.
I don’t want to die, because I love consuming other people’s minds. The pleasure of slipping inside someone else’s head through their writing, their craft, their weird private obsessions - it’s an endless, flowing current. Every once in a while, you come across something in that stream, that makes your heart beat faster. Doors that were previously closed, swing open. You see the world differently. You're still you, but your perspective has changed.
I guess I'll stay here a little bit longer than I anticipated.