There's this one song by BTS, "Life Goes On". The chorus goes,

"Like an arrow in the blue sky
another day flying by
on my pillow, on my table
yeah, life goes on
like this again."

When the song came out, BTS ARMY took over Twitter with tweets thanking the boys for a song that felt like a warm hug on a rainy day. It is supposed to be a comforting song, I know. But I ugly cry every time I listen to it. The title, the lyrics, they're all so sad to me.

On many late nights in the months that I've spent at a hostel, I've talked about the sense of sadness, resignation and existential angst that the transience of life evokes in me. At the end of these talks, and at times in the midst of them, I have dissolved into tears.

Life goes on. It doesn't matter if you're stuck in a rut, a slump or in reverse, it goes on and you can only go along with it.

A phase of your life may be over and you might not be ready for the next but you don't get to pause, life will go on anyway.

Even if you lose someone, life will go on. And as it does, the people you've lost remain people no more. They are reduced to names and faces and voices and memories.

Even if your favourite band disbands tomorrow, life will go on, for you and for them both.

Even if you can't sleep, a new day will dawn. All you might do is sit there staring at it, unmoving, but it will dawn (Don't they say, "Even if you're not ready for the day, it can't always be night"?)

The three words, "life goes on" might sound comforting but their implications, if you think about them, are so very sad. Life goes on. It doesn't wait out your ruts and slumps. It doesn't wait out your sorrow, your emptiness, your pain, and despair.

"Time goes by on its own
Without an apology, yeah."

And as life goes on, you get over losses. Losses of places and people and moments. And memories. And isn't that a sad thought? The thought that we're capable of getting over the losses of the most beautiful things in life?

"Even if I'm left at a loss and cry my eyes out
I'll eventually stop crying.
In the end, that makes me sad."

At 18 years old, I'm yet to find solace and reassurance in the phrase "Life goes on" like most of the people around me do. But I'll keep picking up the conversation again and again, whether with fellow students at a residential campus or my grandfather late at night, until it grants me a fresh perspective on the transience of life. One that will prompt me to live life deliberately and cherish moments, relationships, and experiences while they last rather than have me linger on the inevitability of them coming to an end. 

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