Over and Done

The Ten Largest, No. 2, Childhood, 1907 by Hilma af Klint

I find myself consumed by thoughts of death, a morbid obsession that haunts me day and night. The mere contemplation of mortality stirs up anxiety within me, leading to restless nights devoid of peaceful sleep. It is foolish of me to dwell on such thoughts when I have been granted the opportunity for a fresh start. Yet, embarking on this new chapter in life feels akin to a death-like episode, as I must sever ties with the past and everything associated with it, undergoing a metaphorical reincarnation into a new existence.

This so-called "fresh start" may be the hundredth death-like episode I have experienced throughout my life. However, surviving these episodes did not make living any easier; instead, it fueled my imagination with countless scenarios of future other "deaths."

It is evident that the awareness of death is deeply ingrained in life itself. Those who deny death will never truly grasp the essence of existence, unless they confront it at the very end, as they draw their last breath. It is often during these moments that people long for vivid flashbacks, craving memories of when they truly felt alive.

But unlike them squares, I do not seek a dramatic exit when death comes for me. There is no need for flashing lights, tears, or glimpses of heavenly or hellish gates swinging open. My passing should not be accompanied by prayers for my soul or mourning at my deathbed. Death, to me, represents the ultimate solitude—a final opportunity to experience pure isolation. I find that there is no need for memories or the living interfere with this state.

Is it not more courageous and authentic to die in seclusion, knowing that we take nothing—no wealth, smiles, love, memories, or people—with us when we depart? To embrace the ultimate dissolution into the cosmic void?