Muerte

I’m scared. I’m scared and insecure and bundled up in worries. I’m scared to death…of death. It’s really rather a morose thought: Death, but it’s always been there, always at the back of my mind. Unfortunately, it’s the ultimate truth, the final destination. If there’s one thing every single living thing has in common, it’s that they die.

Maybe it’s because of the way I think, of the constant plots that I work up. I don’t know, but whether characters in a story live or die, the narrator is always there, the creator is omnipresent, and infinite – always existing. So how is it, that I, or anyone for that matter, how can we disappear? We are the narrators of our own story, how can we…end?

It’s the most troubling question, and unfortunately, the most unanswerable one. The truth of death is, we don’t know what it is till we face it, and after that, there’s no going back. Literally.

I’ve driven myself to tears, to hysterics thinking about it. Panic swells and overwhelms me, and I have to fight it down. Force away a fear, a fear which may never leave.

I guess that’s why I read books. They’re my safe haven, my escape. I’ve passed half sleepless nights re-enacting parts of Harry Potter in my head, that’s the only thing that calms me. Harry Potter is my home and in ways I’ll never leave, because I’ve latched a part of my own being onto the hope that magic exists, and that goodness does too, and that one day goodness will prevail over evil. After all, as Richard Castle said, “The one reason to believe in magic is that if you don’t, you’ll never have even the slightest hope of finding it.” Or something close to that at any rate. But maybe there’s another reason I like fictional characters so much: thinking about them means not analyzing my own life, my own fears. And sometimes, thinking outside the self is a relief.

I’ve thought and thought again about writing this, and I decided too, because along with all the good and fun in this world, the bad, the dark cannot go unacknowledged.

I don’t really know what this is about. There’s no point…exactly. There are times when I imagine dying, and as scared as I am of the whole concept, the only thing I really want is to die happy. And that’s going to happen. I’ve got a great family, friends, so much beauty and love surrounding that I can’t really stay caught up thinking only of death. There are certain moments which make me smile wide and think, ‘this is what I want in life. And I have it.’ It’s a nice thought to have. It’s happy, and sweet, and hopeful.