O Death.
I have not come to terms with dying, and I worry about that.
I worry about terminal illness, staircases, careless drivers and sometimes lunatics.
I wonder about the actual process of dying. What does it feel like stepping through that door, knowing that you aren’t coming back? That’s if you’re lucky enough to have some time to contemplate your death process.
I think it’s lucky, anyway, to have the chance to accept your death.
I hear that in some situations your brain is kind enough to pump out a healthy dose of endorphins to ease the process.
I wonder what mindframe is worse, spending too much time thinking about death or not thinking about it at all? I laughed once when I heard someone start a sentence with “If I die . . .”
I said “What do you mean ‘if’?”
She called me morbid.
I called myself realistic.
