Eccedentesiast

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Nyctophilia- Love for darkness or night; finding relaxation or comfort in it.

***

Death is an interesting subject, isn't it? To some , the subject might scare them, or maybe it fascinates them. Or there's the ones that think about it so much that the subject doesn't faze them.

Maybe when I was little the thought would have given me an unsettling feeling. As a little girl, I thought I had so much ahead of me, to look forward to, to accomplish. That death was scary and I didn't want it to come to me yet. I wanted to live my life and look forward to all the milestones ahead of me.

That little girl would be so disappointed in me now.

You might say that you're not scared of death. In my opinion though, I think a lot of us are terrified of it without even realizing. I think that's why we're scared of certain things. for example things like, motorcycles, heights, roller coasters, the dark, skydiving, etc . I don't think we're actually afraid of them, we're just worried about what would happen if something went wrong.

Now what about the topic of, if you got to choose how you would die, how would you go? If you asked that question, it seems a lot of people would say, in their sleep or of old age. But I would want to die doing something reckless, or ways people are afraid like we talked about. All I know is that living seventy or more years seem like torture.

Death isn't kind, I know that. It always seems to take the ones we love the most, the ones too young, too good for the world. The one that actually has something to live for, and death doesn't care at all.

I stop my mind from thinking, that's why I'm out here, that's why I'm always out here. To keep my mind away from thinking too deeply.

I fish out my phone from the side pocket of my leggings to turn up my music. That's why we listen to music, right? to get lost in the lyrics.

"Hey!"

The sound gets my attention and I turn my music back down from blasting in my air pods to just a soft background noise. I turned my head to the left, searching for the source of the sound, but that was a bad idea.

As I run, I end up tripping on who knows what, most likely a crack in the cement. Out of instinct, my hands reach out to brace the impact but it does nothing as I faceplant on the ground. Scraping my hands, knees, and cheek.

I hiss from the sting and I close my eyes, letting myself lay there as I try to catch my breath.

"Shit, are you okay?" the voice asks.

Forgetting someone was there, I hurriedly jumped up from my place on the ground, ignoring the person's hand that was stretched out to help me.

I brush off my knees before taking a glance at the unfamiliar person, trying to figure out if I know him or not. His large frame looks down at me, his face showing worry. He looks away from me to the ground, bending down and picking something up.

He hands me my phone. I run my thumb over the screen, cursing under my breath when I realize that it's cracked. "It's a little late to be running don't you think?"

I know it's dark, but I mean, it's three in the morning. It's never too late or early to be running, in my opinion. Especially when you can't sleep.

"I could be asking you the same thing," I snap back. "What's your reasoning for being out at this time?"

The stranger narrows his eyes, his worried expression morphed into a stern look. "That's none of your business."

Geez, just a question. If you're not going to answer me, saying it's none of my business, what makes you think you can be asking me?