Ten thousands of years conditioned our body. Nature tells us to watch out for danger, to be prepared for the inevitably upcoming fight and generally keep up our guard.

Well, compare this to the lifestyle of a living room human. Locked up between four walls offering less space than the average cage in a zoo, watching out for nothing but the Black Friday offers of WalMart, prepared to go the extra mile to open the door for the pizza delivery man and generally living a life where society and big red warning stickers guard from anything but the most insignificant dangers.

So why again are so many people in the western world depressed, believing their life to be meaningless and empty?

There are many ways to deal with this feeling... Prozac allows you to continue life as a happy, chemically well-balanced vegetable, conspicuous consumption is another popular way to cope with this lack of reality and, thanks to the internet, replacing it with some virtual life also seems quite popular nowadays.

I'll stick to extreme sports, thank you very much. Some people think it's insane, some would say that it's a way to express some inner wish to die and some people would use the word adrenaline junkie - but in the end it's just another way to cope with this lack of sensory stimulus civilization created. The moment I'm out on the field, trying not to get hit by paintballs, the moment I'm jumping out of a perfectly good airplane, the moment I'm trying to smack the living heck out of my sparring partner with a training sword - in this moment I feel alive.

Due to my schedule I didn't manage to join the IronNoder marathon. So it will be a WriteOrDie-Marathon, 20-minute time limit, Kamikaze mode, every day, as long as I can keep it up. Feel free to join, give some feedback or downvote.

I don't have the time to rearrange my thoughts from this amazing flurry of excitement into something tangible. I love this time in my head, when everything is as though I was only born today. But my brain isn't much good to me like this. This is the line between death and life. This is the line I seek to walk. This being the feeling of being alive.

I stand at the edge of a precipice. My feet falter fatally, falling from the fringe that is the facade I forever face. My heart hears the fear and patters faster, purposefully promising hope that I can survive. I clench my hand to my chest. My heart. That faithful ball of blood. It beats.

I walk. Slowly simply sadly staring strangely at the faces that follow me around. I breathe in. I breathe out. The air that drowns me can also lift me up from the shadowy depths that I cannot live in. I breathe in so deeply I could burst open. I stop breathing to teach myself the feeling of death. I hate these moments when I can imagine dark dirt destroying me from inside my shining coffin. Then I breathe. When I can feel Death's bony hand resting on my shoulder. I breathe.

I search for these moments. Not in the conventional way. I don't leap from planes. I don't dive from cliffs into wet water waiting below. I need this. I need death to balance the life that I can see in everyone else but I don't always feel in me. I impatiently let my life linger a little longer every day. I hear my thoughts that I do not share because they are so uninteresting. I wait until they twist and turn into things I want to paint into the sky. I wait until I feel alive.