expect less.

I suddenly remembered a conversation I had with my mother when I was 9 years old tonight.

We were driving to the grocery store one afternoon in late April when, from the backseat, I softly asked her why people have to die. She didn't know. She proceeded to tell me that she feared death and often had vivid dreams of her own demise - she refused to share with me what happened in them, though.

For many years after that conversation, I had a paralyzing fear of death. So bad, in fact, that the anxiety I'd feel would keep me home from school and send me into crying fits, that became so numerous that it was odd for a day to pass without one. I eventually forced myself to get over it, instead turning the fear into a morbid fascination.

I think about dying more than I'd like to admit to. I think about how I will die, and when I will die. I think a lot of why I ultimately have to die. I don't think I ever really feared death. More so, I think I feared time, and simply not having enough of it. In a certain light, I'm still hanging on to that fear because (direct SK quote here) in the countdown to death, the question of why? melts into when?. How much time do we really ever have? I refuse to make plans for the future because I have such little foresight as to how long I'm going to be around for; how long I will have to keep the promises I've made. I suppose that, in holding back, I'm really not living life to the fullest - I'm not making the most of my time. It seems easier this way, though. It feels like less people get hurt this way.

So, what would I do with my last day, anyways? Don't pretend like you haven't thought about it.

I think I'd take the ferry home - to the island. My dog would be alive again, and we'd walk through the daffodil fields one more time at the farm behind my old house. We'd go down to the bay together, and I'd through sticks for her across the beach. We'd get tired after a while, so we'd nap together on the shore. We'd die peacefully there, while we slept, and the ocean's waves would take our bodies away. We drift off to sea, and nobody would even see that we were gone - nobody would be have to be sad or even miss us.

It might be depressing to think about things like this, but I also think it's therapeutic. There's no sense in ignoring the fact that one day you will die. They say ignorance is bliss, but quite frankly, I think that's more absurd that anticipating what is eventually coming for us all in the end.

What do you think?