“All that a person chooses compares to death. We choose death, because we cannot select between who should live. Therefore, in all that compares to a choice, relates always to what makes life temporary. Death.”
– Modern Romanticism
If we can choose, then it will be the object, or of everything according to something so inhuman and lifeless as such. An object shows no signs of humanity. An object compares to death, because nothing of the beloved life will be chosen for its continuance. To love life, means not to choose it. To love life, means to reject the offering of death.
It is because death will embrace the one who has no more to lose, except for their life. No more to love, for that makes the last thing to be welcome into Death’s arms of the one who cannot stand existence.
Life is no comparison to an object, though choice will always relate to the objectification of life. To choose a life, is not to embrace a calling. If we feel proper to do whatever is our passion, then it is not a choice to become what we love. For we will feel as though we can be no better, do no worse, than what is meant for us, by what is personally satisfactory. It is the embrace of what we are called to do, that we, ourselves, feel as though we are alive.
Choosing an object is much like selecting who shall die. If an executioner must point their finger to the lives, it is their control over them that will draw them unto death. Though, even according to death, it relates to an ending before another beginning. If one’s former way to live is being replaced by another, is still to say that one is not treated as the human. It is still to say that their life is not one, though they’ve merely been selected because they are an object.
It is to say that if the employer chooses between the candidates for the position, then they are, to figuratively speak of this, the executioner who is making a replacement for an unfilled space. No humanity is within selection. It is only the consideration of self-benefit, of the selfish need to objectify oneself through death, that one embeds themselves into instant gratification.
Modern Romanticism 