There was a time when people believed death was the final stop. The ultimate exit. The one place where deadlines, conflicts, politics, and human madness could no longer follow. Apparently, those days are over.

Today, even death seems to have lost its basic workplace protections. The dead cannot have peace.

Imagine finding yourself in a senseless war zone. Imagine suddenly being brainwashed to hate your fellow human beings, your countrymen and women, simply because of religious, ethnic or ideological differences. Imagine spending a lifetime dodging bullets, surviving crises, avoiding troublemakers, and navigating the gruesome battlefield, only to discover that your farewell ceremony isn't safe either. It's as if the madness, insanity and brutality of war and our modern life have become so ambitious that it now insists on attending every event, including the ones meant to honour those who have already left.

This madness and dark reality are not limited to the warzone. It is not synonymous with Sudan, Palestine, Syria, Libya (you name them); our modern life is not immune from this harsh reality. We have lost the dignity of peace. We have murdered the death; the death cannot rest.

The irony is almost poetic. We live in a world where nothing gets left alone anymore. Your phone follows you to bed. Work emails chase you on vacation. Advertisements stalk your online searches. And now, metaphorically speaking, even the dead can't seem to enjoy uninterrupted rest.

Perhaps this is simply the logical evolution of our times. We have normalised disruption so thoroughly that peace itself has become an endangered species; an essential commodity. Every space once reserved for reflection, healing, or dignity is now vulnerable to intrusion. Silence is interrupted. Privacy is invaded. And solemn moments are treated as just another item on the calendar of chaos.

What makes it even more absurd is how quickly society adapts. We easily accept the unacceptable way of life and move on. We read shocking headlines over breakfast, shake our heads for ten seconds, and then continue scrolling for restaurant reviews, celebrity gossip, and discount offers. Human beings have become experts at treating tragedy like background noise. Yes, as second-hand news.

The result is a strange reality where outrage has a shorter shelf life than a carton of milk. Nothing is considered outrageous anymore.

In many ways, this mirrors our everyday lives. We cannot escape conflict. If it's not political arguments, it's workplace drama. If it's not workplace drama, it's social media outrage. If it's not social media outrage, it's the endless race to keep up with expectations that nobody remembers creating in the first place.

The modern world has mastered one thing: making sure there is never a quiet moment. We are embedded in our self-made modern madness.

And so, we arrive at the ultimate dark joke of our era. Not even death appears exempt from humanity's relentless talent for turning every sacred space into another battleground. The final resting place was once considered untouchable. Now, even that sanctuary seems to require a security plan.

Perhaps the saddest lesson is not that violence exists. Humanity has always struggled with that. The real tragedy is how ordinary the extraordinary has become. We have become so accustomed to instability that stories which should stop the world barely slow down our afternoon.

When even death cannot find rest, maybe the problem isn't that peace is difficult to achieve. Maybe the problem is that chaos has become too comfortable among the living.

And if that isn't the darkest irony of all, what is?