Thoughts On Death

I’m going to die soon.

I have no fatal illness other than the slow leak of essence which afflicts us all, but it’s enough. Each day passes quicker than the last, and the slow acceleration that started in my childhood has finally reached a point where it is starting to frighten me. Days and years pass, and I don’t have enough to show for it. At the end of the day I can’t remember how I spent my time, and still time flows faster, pushing me further from where I began. I’ve been trying to absorb as much information as possible, staying awake as long as possible, trying desperately to stretch out each day, hoping to counteract the unstoppable mass of time long enough to understand it.

I don’t want to live my life trying to ignore my inevitable death. There is a myth that the ability to forcibly remove thoughts of death from your mind is a blessing. I don’t want the euphoric ignorance of the Eloi. I want to understand death and deal with it now, before time’s urgent pace finally reaches the panicked gallop that hurtles me headlong into the end of life. I’m sure some might dismiss such thoughts as morbid, but just imagine the sheer terror of one who suddenly finds themselves at that fatal Point B without first coming to terms with the subject.

Death is just a part of life, isn’t it? No! Of course it isn’t. Death is the end of life, and I don't want it. We’ve all heard the stories about how awful it would supposedly be to live forever, but I’m here to tell you that’s exactly what I want. I would hope that those I love would also live forever, but if that didn’t happen you wouldn’t find me taking a dirt nap out of a sense of fairness.

I haven’t reached any conclusions yet. I suspect they may be a very long time coming, if at all. All I know now is that I plan to stick around as long as possible until I can figure out what to do. Death will be coming for me soon. Should I meet him with milk and cookies, or a Louisville Slugger?