It’s interesting how most people – myself included – avoid thinking about their own death.
Understandably, it’s a dark topic that can drain the mood in any room. Growing up in the village, elders would scold you for mentioning death: “Suthetha ngokufa uyahlola” (Stop talking about death; you’re speaking it into existence). And like the respectful kid you were, you’d quickly apologise and change the subject.
I still don’t understand what it means to “speak into existence” something that will happen anyway. It’s like telling someone not to buy winter clothes in summer – as if the seasons could never change.
The insurance industry wouldn’t be worth billions in South Africa and trillions globally if we didn’t all know that anything can go wrong at any time… including our own death.
Yet, for some reason, most of us still imagine death as something far away – a frail body on a hospital bed – when the truth is, we’re all dying… just at different speeds.
Sad? Maybe.
True? Absolutely.
Which is why I find it strange that so many people spend their lives trying to be understood instead of being themselves. Trying to make everyone “get you” is a fool’s errand. Some people just won’t, and that’s fine.
I hold a contrarian view on death: I’m prepared for it to happen at any time of God’s choosing, as long as I live true to myself. I’d rather die young knowing I embraced who I am than reach 90 having never been myself or tried the things I wanted to try. That possibility scares me more than death itself – a long life wasted, never scratching my itches, never leaning into what interested me.
What would have been the point?
Life is too short to live someone else’s story.
The Weight of Other People’s Opinions
Maybe that’s why I’ve never understood why we care so much about what others think.
Growing up in a village gave me a perspective few share. My father, a small-scale livestock farmer, taught me the value of hard work through literally back-breaking labour, while my mother, a teacher, encouraged curiosity by giving us books on all kinds of topics – which probably sparked my love for words.
With those influences, it’s no surprise that people with different experiences don’t see life the way I do.
People close to me know how strongly I feel about social media. In my opinion, it’s the best and worst invention of all time.
Best, because it’s opened free markets and enterprise.
Worst… well, do you have all day? Its biggest curse is how it’s made us feel the need to constantly show the world what we’re doing, buying, wearing, and even eating.
Maybe it’s the village boy in me, but I still find it a bit strange. And I don’t say that to judge anyone. If you enjoy sharing, that’s your thing – I just genuinely wonder: what’s the point?
If it’s for business, go nuts. But if it’s just to show your whole life, why? Do people really care that much?
And by putting yourself everywhere, aren’t you also giving trolls more chances to tear you down?
It amazes me how much time we spend editing ourselves for people who’ll forget our names one day – and don’t really care about us even now.
The Reality of Mortality
As odd as it sounds, knowing you won’t be here forever should free you. It should push you to live as the best version of yourself, not as someone constantly trying to please strangers or distant “friends” on social media.
Maybe when you’ve faced something that made you feel your life could end at any moment, your view of life changes. Experiences like that make you realise how fragile life really is – and that the best way to live is to do what truly matters to you, and you only.
Earlier this year, I did something unusual: I wrote my own obituary.
Strange, I know. The elders in my village would’ve called it “ukuhlola” (prophesying death) and rebuked me as they always did when we spoke about death as kids. But how does one “prophesy” the inevitable?
I did the exercise to get clear on what truly matters: my relationships with the people closest to me, making the world a little better through the value I give, spending more time on meaningful experiences, and being unrelenting in my learning and writing – two passions I’ve had since childhood.
I’d urge you to try it too. Ask yourself: What do you want people to say about you when you’re gone? How can you start being that person now? What things would you be proud you tried, and how can you start today?
It’s uncomfortable to think of yourself as a “was,” but it forces you to focus on what matters despite how many people may be confused or oppose your values.
Your duty isn’t to please anyone. It’s to live true to yourself.
This exercise can strip away the nonsense: the endless arguing online, the energy spent trying to change people’s minds – and help you zero in on what makes life worth living for you, not your family, not your friends, but you.
When you truly understand you won’t be here forever, you stop begging for approval. You simply live.
The Beauty of Being Misunderstood
There’s something satisfying about being misunderstood, especially because I never insist on people understanding me in the first place.
Most of the proudest decisions you’ve made were probably misunderstood too: moving somewhere people thought wasn’t wise, dropping friends who didn’t align with your journey, leaving a relationship that wasn’t adding value, or trying a hobby or starting a business.
We’re always surrounded by people who want to understand us, even when we don’t ask them to. And chances are, you’ve been that person to someone else too. Often, it comes from care, but it also saves time to accept that others view the world through a different lens, even family and friends.
They have different fears, biases, and interests, and trying to change them – or be changed by them – is usually futile.
Yes, if someone is heading down a dangerous path, advise them because you care, and that’s noble. But even then, if they don’t want to change, there’s very little you can do.
I’m not sure how you came to read this essay, but there’s a good chance you came by yourself. I don’t market this platform; it’s my archive and canvas, where I wrestle with my thoughts and the world. That’s why I disabled likes and comments; the intention was never to get people’s opinions, but to sit with myself and put my thoughts on paper.
When I told a few people about this platform, some asked, “So you write your essays and then what?” I’d reply, “Then nothing, that’s it.” They’d give a puzzled smile and an “Oh, okay.” And that’s fine. That’s exactly why I spent two sleepless nights building this platform: to write these essays… and that’s it.
Had I asked people whether it was a good idea, I already know the answer would have been no. That’s why you need to do things because they interest you, not to appeal to people who see the world completely differently from you.
Most of us don’t realise how amazing it is to be the unique person we are, quirks and flaws included. Differentiation is your superpower. How is life interesting if you’re just doing what everyone else is doing?
I once watched a clip of Sir James Dyson, the British inventor and founder of Dyson, who said something about design that stuck with me: “It should be different, even if it’s worse.”
That resonated with me because most people I admire, both in real life and on social media, are completely different personalities. Some are quiet and humble, others loud and obnoxious, but all share one thing: they don’t try to be understood. They aim to be real, whether you agree with that realness or not.
Let people misunderstand you as much as they want, as long as you live your life using your own script, not theirs.
The Danger of Regret
When you don’t pursue the things you’re interested in or become the person you’re meant to be, one of two things happens: you either delay regret until your deathbed, or you become bitter, judging others for living the lives you’re too afraid to live.
It’s easier said than done, though, isn’t it? How do you accept who you are today, flaws and all, without getting too comfortable – knowing there’s still a better version of you waiting to emerge?
Or you could do a Joaquín García – the Spanish engineer in Cádiz who, around 2010, simply stopped showing up to work and devoted himself to studying philosophy and the works of Spinoza, his true passion.
His absence went unnoticed for six years, yet he still received a salary. In 2016, a former manager finally realised he hadn’t been seen for years when García was nominated for a long-service award. The irony, right?
He was fined $30 000, but the story illustrates a key point: if your work and life aren’t aligned with who you are, something inside will push you towards what truly matters.
Garcia’s story reminded me of a quote by the Russian novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky:
“If one wanted to crush and destroy a man entirely, to mete out to him the most terrible punishment … all one would have to do would be to make him do work that was completely and utterly devoid of usefulness and meaning.”
That’s how I imagine Garcia felt about his engineering role – drained by work that felt pointless, especially after discovering how alive he felt studying philosophy, even if his approach was flawed.
Robert Greene, author of 48 Laws of Power, often warns that ignoring your interests and purpose leads to regret later in life. He says your true purpose often links back to the things you were naturally drawn to – the ones you could spend hours doing in your younger years.
Figure that out for yourself now, so you don’t reach your final day living a life that isn’t truly yours.
Protect Your Individuality
I’ve realised that if you truly want a satisfying life, you need to guard your identity as fiercely as you guard your bank balance the week before payday.
If people don’t get you, fine. Who said they should? You’d save yourself a lot of time by focusing on what matters to you, instead of trying to understand others.
Maybe the people we call “bold” or “crazy” are simply those who stopped asking for permission to exist. Perhaps you’d find more peace being that person too… just for yourself.
When you finally stop performing for others, life feels real again. Most importantly, you feel free.
Be yourself. Always.
© Phumzile