The idea of death puzzles me.

The horrifying idea of having everything you have lived through being taken away in less than a second - and a life being devalued and lost that quickly - has always horrified me to no ends. Just knowing that with one bullet and one guiltless face, all the blood, sweat, and tears, could seem so trivial.

However, the more I think about it, The less scary it seems. We worry our whole lives, about things that simply don’t matter in the long run; in fact, that don’t even matter in the short term. Materialistic things. Things that make us feel like society would accept us. When we’re sitting on our rocking chairs, drinking coffee with our husbands and friends, we’ll look back and not even remember the minute things we used to worry about. We’ll laugh at our ignorance. And chuckle at our willingness to accept misery. But in that moment when fear strikes our eyes in the terrifying form of death, everything comes in places. All our worry disappear just like that. I imagine it as this beautiful, clear, white, pure feeling. That feeling of 100% content with everything we have been exposed to. A moment where you don’t have one complaint. Not one regret. Not one problem.

What puzzles me, however, is what this feeling represents. Does it represent the realism of our life? The realization that it truly is not as bad as we imagine it? Or that we believe we can fight through it, if we are given one last chance? Or is it simply a hallucination? A hallucination that is triggered by death - a mind boggling idea.

When it comes down to it, I would not know what exactly i’m fearing. Fearing the idea of death itself. The idea of losing our lives. The idea of lost potential. The idea of lost opportunity to turn things around. The idea of huge impact and worry striking in the hearts of our loved ones. The idea of everything we have achieved going to waste. Or the idea of temporary pain, and lasting peace.