I’m not afraid to die.
I’m not looking forward to getting to that point, nor do I want it to end any quicker than it’s supposed to; but I’m not afraid.
I think I spent so much time navel-gazing as a teenager and that maybe the hours spent inside of my head gave me a different perspective on death.
I don’t know what comes after your heart stops beating, when your brain stops firing, when your blood stops pumping. I don’t know what happens after that, but whatever it is, I’m not afraid. Whether God or Satan or nothing opens the doors for me I’m not afraid. Because there is no reason to fear the natural progression of life; though I wish I could tell my brain that wrinkles are as natural as death and then maybe I’ll start drinking more water and stop spending all this money on face creams.
We all start and end the same exact way, although maybe in different environments. I was born as an emergency and have lived my life in that same mode and it’s made me anxious, angry and stressed. People used to tell me all the time “You look tired” because, well, I was. But instead of actually talking about what was making me look this way I always just kinda laughed it off. I was exhausted all the time and I mean sure I’m tired and sleepy but thats way different then being fully emotionally and physically just beat to hell.
Whatever comes next I’ve got it, I’m on it. I don’t care enough about failing anymore to be afraid of it.
Death is just the end man.