Mi número uno es el miedo es la muerte.
“When people think you’re dying they really really listen to you. Instead of just waiting for their turn to speak.” -Fight Club
The fear of death has, in my younger years, never affected be as frequently as it does at this point in my life. It’s such an extreme paradox because fearing death in return makes me fear life. Living. Trying new experiences. Worrying about the future. Wondering what my future holds. Wondering how I will die eventually.
I keep telling myself it’s just one of those things that, when it happens, I won’t fear it. That I’ll unexplainably be ready for it. It’s like getting a solo in a band concert- you stress and stress and stress over it and try to perfect it best you can. But you’re not ready for it. You’re not prepared for the sensation it will control you with. Until you face the fear and anxiety of it and actually play it. In that very moment, all seems fine. Once you spit out one note (whether it’s right or not is something completely different) you’re not afraid anymore.
I feel like in a strange, distant way that this is how the sensation of death is (Unfortunately without the part of preparing and knowing when it will occur). But in any case, it’s similar because if you go about trying to perfect your life and stressing over what will come of you in the end or how you will die and when you will die, you miss out on the things happening around you. Life. This is how I attempt to get over the fear of dying. Live your life right and you won’t mind dying.
That’s too deep. I swear I’m not usually this bleak and daunting it was just something I needed to throw out there.
Lo siento pero yo necesitaba hablar acerca mi miedo.
Buenas noches ustedes bonitas personas.