Whenever I think about death... When I have to...When I need to...Even when I want to...Just... just, whenever I think about it.
Instead of feeling like the end is far away, I feel it creepily watching me, just around the corner. Where if I just blink, it'll end. And I'll be left alone, forever. This feeling of dread isn't going away... and I'm very, very, scared.d
I wish that we weren't so small. So tiny. Like little ants, unable to stop the future. I don't want to think about the future. I don't want a future, if that means I get to live peacefully, forever. I just want to worry about what to learn, and what to eat, and how to do taxes, and how to raise kids, and how to grow up... all without the need to confront the endless forever-ness. of death.
Why aren't we the gods of our own world? Cultivators that could live thousands and millions of years? In a world filled with magic that doesn't decay? Where phantasy becomes reality, and where reality is whatever we want?
This is the most conscious I've been writing to you.
I wonder how long that will last?
YOU ARE READING
Abstraction
Non-Fiction[Started on: June 14, 2022] || Chapters Released: 0 This is an abstraction of real thoughts. My thoughts. Every time I feel harsh worry, dread, or fear, I will write; I will write right here. Those who want to read about another's poetry, go ah...
