Sunday, August 15, 2010
Death. Some days I wake up and the fear of death is so paralysing, I am unable to get up from my bed. Then I realise, I could die just lieing there. I could've died in my sleep. So I get up and not think of the possible ways I could die today. I don't think of slipping in the bathtub, I don't think of getting electrocuted by my hair dryer. No. I don't think of all the ways my gas could explode. I don't think of getting hit by a car on my way to the bus stop.
I don't imagine the possible ways the bus could crash. I don't imagine that someone in my class could be a shooter or bomber. I don't imagine that the building could colapse. I don't imagine a stray bullet coming from nowhere. I don't imagine my asthma killing me. I just . . . live.
Someone said to me, "Omg you've gone sky diving or air gliding or car racing or any one of the other amazing shit I've done. Aren't you scared of dying?" My reply "Omg you drive a car everyday, aren't you scared of dying? Because there are more chances of you dying just walking than there is for me jumping out of a plane"
I'm scared of dying but I refuse to let the fear stop me from living my life exactly how I want. If I die, I want to die doing something. Something exciting. Preferably having sex (threesome? Orgy?)
Posted by Vanity at 1:50 PM