After the sickness entangled me, when the journey of life came to an end, to whom does my life belong, and who has the right to decide my life and death?
What is selfish? Is it because of dignity that you choose to self-end, but ignore the pain of the person who loves you, or because of love and fear of loneliness, denying your partner's right to decide your own life?
What is love? Do you want your lover to remember who you are, not a drag from a disease, or do you want to sacrifice everything else in your life for your lover's life, just to put him to sleep every night?
Love and death are never new topics, but this movie explores much more than that. Because every word in this film, and every decision made by the protagonist, poke the deepest fear and doubt in my heart.
Death is not terrible, but if you are forced to spend the rest of your life in a hospital bed, or wander in confusion in oblivion, it is really not as good as death. Among all the arrangements for the future, this is the only one I am sure about. If I am no longer healthy, no longer awake, and no longer able to live like a normal person, I will settle myself firmly, just like the writer's choice. Just because I am afraid that I am no longer me, and that those who love me are forced to share my pain, and use their lives to drag the burden forward. Before everything becomes irretrievable, and while I can still decide my life, I hope everything will end quickly and gracefully.
I understand the writer's choice too well, but at the same time, the pianist's pain is so real. Who can bear such pain for his partner? When he couldn't help holding his lover and sobbing at night, I also deeply shared the same kind of sadness. Even if we all know that each other will die, but if we are clearly aware that we will be watching the death of the one we love, and it is irreversible, what kind of grief is this. The pianist is afraid of the loneliness after losing his lover. The pain is worse than watching him suffer from illness. This thought may be selfish, but blameless.
For a person like me, if the person I love chooses to die, I will be sad but will never obstruct, as long as his will is determined. But what about another kind of person? What about those who think that life is more than anything but are afraid of loss and loneliness? Can you cruelly let them accept your death? Can you take yourself away from them, even if it will cause them great pain?
So, if someone loves me, how can I fail their love so much, how can I bear to let them cry again and again because of loneliness after the loss, what right do I have to end myself? From the moment we love each other, our destinies are entangled, so we live, and we ought to die. It is best to be free from illness, but the reality is that we will also encounter the same predicament. I pray that I will not fall into this situation. I pray that I have no worries when deciding on life and death, and that my beloved can respect it. My choice, otherwise, self-closing will be a very difficult process.
Perhaps more noble than I am willing to die for you is that I am willing to live for you, even if that means I am no longer healthy, no longer awake, and can only be tortured in the hospital bed. But if I love you, if you love me and need me, I will wander for a long time at the end of life, resisting the arrangement of death, just to give you comfort.
On the other hand, than I am willing to die for you, perhaps even more noble is that I am willing to let you die, as long as you wish so, even if it means that I will face the lonely life alone and in the countless nights afterwards Missing and suffocating. But if I love you, if I respect you, I will respect your right to dispose of your life. If the suffering in the world is unbearable for you, and you are determined to seek another kind of relief, I will not accuse you, nor will I hold you back because of my emptiness. If this is what you want, then I would rather bear the pain alone, just to comfort you.
Having said this, I finally came back to the question: When love arises and exists, do our lives belong to ourselves?
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