[ WP ] At the age of 18 , everyone picks an unlikely life event . They will be reborn at 18 every time they die until that event happens . After that , death is permanent .

Death by fulfillment. Our society believes that everyone deserves a chance to pursue their ambitions to the finish line. There are those who create masterpieces by accumulating lifetimes of knowledge. Others wish to simply find happiness by experiencing true love, as perfect matches are rare but not impossible given an eternity. 
 
 But I am afraid of death. 
 
 Many of my peers still live alongside their parents, as it is likely that both parent and child will not reach their goals in one lifetime. But by some astronomical chance, both my parents have passed. 
 
 My father, in a stroke of brilliance, painted the picture that now hangs in the National Gallery in the capital. I have not seen it. My mother, being the shy person she is, simply wished to have a child with a man she loved. She had lived fewer lifetimes than father. However she had me and died when I was 8. Simply put, my existence alone had killed her. 
 
 I am very afraid of death. 
 
 I still remember that night my mother had been crying. She came home drunk, cursing the fate that she had chosen. She had no one to blame but herself. And me. She might have not meant it. She was drunk. But she wanted to live on. 
 
 She was afraid of death. 
 
 My mother's death caused my father to seclude himself from society, embellishing the canvas with feelings that had taken centuries to build but was released when my mother died in a car crash. His masterpiece was one of grief and fear. The height of his career at the lowest point of his life. Within the same day that his work was hanging in the museum, he was hanging from the rope connected to the ceiling. His final artistic rendition. I still have not seen the painting. 
 
 I guess was only natural that I wished to only die when I was not afraid of death. 
 
 My peers are long dead now. I live alongside the next generation. Or the generation after that. I lost track of time. Love, school, parenthood, adventure. Nothing had quelled my fear of death. Perhaps it is finally time to learn from one who sought death. Perhaps it is time to take a trip to the museum. 

