lately ive been dealing with this bone deep terror about dying. like. i know we're all going to die but like i find myself folding my clothes and then it feels like there's ice in my spine when i think about this being my only life ever
what happens to me after? and like. not in a "scared for my soul way" but in a logistical, "what happens when my brain stops firing?" like there's no after and one day it will happen and im terrified. the absence. the separation of me from my consciousness. one day i will not be here and i am scared shitless by that fact. terrified to tears knowing that it all ends.
when i was a fearful believer i tried my hardest to believe. my idea of heaven instrusively was White Suburbia when came from the "Affirmations of Our Faith" portion of my SDA upbringing aka words mixed with the words in John and we recited it every Sabbath. because I was raised in a denomination that took the Bible as the Literal and Infallible Word of God i did imagine mansions.
i don't know if i believe in One Big Judgement Day or an eternal sleep until we are woken up and brought before God. i don't know if theres a massive book keeping record of all my actions words thoughts feelings and emotions. i can. of dark stormy skies on beaches and beasts rising from the seas as serpents and hellfire raining upon the world. i don't know if ill hear trumpets or become Marked and of the world with the Mark of the Beast.
but...idk if i believe in nothing either. that one day i cease to be and im buried or cremated. my human existence condensed to a plot of land or a pile of ashes. i dont want to be a diamond or a jewel. a tree sounds nice but idk if i want to be buried.
ive imagined my own funeral a lot. i vaguely fear my lives colliding and then coalescing into "they were nice." i want to be something other than nice and nurturing and kind. i want to be something other than a phase. a transitional person.
a personal relationship with God used to sound so. awe inspiring. i was this tiny little speck of a thing and my Creator looked upon me and decided out of billions of other creations, a smidge of an inprint upon His finger, to favor me.
Lord, if I find favour in Your Sight.
of course, thats naive. i was nothing but another manufactured mold of billions of others on an assembly line. another tool to progress an ancient line of oppression and conformity. this world is lonely and deeply deeply corrupt, that i do know. the agony of the world is built upons bodies like mine. melanated bodies. to come up with a story of being special was survival. survival of being devoured to the very essence of being. can't even say marrow or flesh or fat. ive read some deep atrocities.
i can't believe in nothing. i can't believe in the hope of the human spirit because im so detached from being human. but to believe im in equal measures a martyr or my salvation comes after my death is just as terrifying.
but to just be gone, too. oh what an idea. to no longer be so heavy. to no longer succumb to pressures and expectations. no longer work or pay rent. agonizing over being a human wrong. to worry about my lot in life my future.
but. to know there is nothing waiting for me after. deep down i know. everything goes dark. my actions only matter while im alive and no one is there to hold me to them or against me when i cease to be. im terrified. i anticipate.
is it easier to keep living or die. a former friend called me a coward for being suicidal once. what if im never happy. slogging along for the end. i worry i bother. i worry my continue existence is met with malcontent and annoyance.
but i know those worries aren't true. i have people who care for me. people who would miss me. people who would never be the same. a lot of people tell me im good and pleasant to be around. that they feel better knowing me. hell im sure i have people who will read this and frown at me and express their fondness for me. i am likeable.
even at my worst i am still loved. forgiven. accepted.
though, a specter of death hangs over me. mental illness maggots. if i could kill it at the source i would. i do not wish to play the hand i was dealt. living like this is hell.
i was taught to equate love with violence and sacrifice and bitterness. that loving me was hard. my worth was built upon being the easiest one. offer no resistance.
i don't want to die being easy. pleasant. nice. i don't want to be a good job sticker on my familys paper. i ache to be more.
i dont want to die not knowing all there is to know about myself.
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