Fear of Death & Other Childhood Whimsies

When I was a child, I’d often suddenly remember the fact of my own mortality. I’d have to stand up, walk around, and just focus on continuing to breathe as this massive wave of panic and terror washed over me.

I’m going to die, one day. 

This fact absolutely terrified me. And it continued to do so until my early twenties… Now, though, I don’t fear death. I’m not afraid to die. I’m not particularly looking forward to it, and I would prefer to die much later than, say, tomorrow… But if death came for me this very morning, I could accept that.

This shift of perception is entirely in my own head. Like, death is still there, still lurking in the back of my mind. It’s still an inevitable fact that one day everything I know and love will cease, my body will grow cold, and my mind as I know it will enter an eternity in the unknown abyss. And that’s all peachy keen.

Because my beliefs changed. I believe in something that comes after this. I don’t believe in a big fluffy palace full of magic clouds and babies floating around with little bows and arrows, but I believe in a sort of dimension where everyone is just there together and everything is OK.

It’s a relaxing thought, and I truly believe it.

Now, I’m not recommending that you start believing in God or whatever. I was an atheist for a long time, so I know I could never convince you to believe what I believe just by writing about it.

However, you could shift your beliefs. You could look inside yourself for whatever it is that you truly believe. Ask yourself the hard questions, and maybe there will be an answer there for you, too.

Maybe it’s easier to walk around ignoring the elephant in the room. But deathly thoughts have a way of creeping up on you. Just like death itself.

But we’re all one, or whatever, so like, don’t worry man.

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