October 24, 2023
I feel that I am coming to accept the chance of my death. And it feels like it would be ok. It feels like even my family would be ok. It feels like my life is becoming less and less my own. Like, it’s beautiful and real and feels like mine. But it’s not really mine. It’s on loan. And one day that debt will be repaid and I have seemingly very little control over its due date. And if I died it would be ok. It would be sad and it would be tragic, but it would be ok. No more sad or tragic than any of these other young people. No more sad or tragic than the hundreds of millions of young people that have had their lives cut short throughout history. Their story ended sooner than they expected but clearly not sooner than it was meant to be. It just ends. I’m not special. My death would not be special. As special as anyone’s I suppose. But who can say who’s life is more special in a game where player and game can be swallowed up in a moment. There’s no fairness in life so there’s no specialness. It’s a rigged game so winning cannot matter. And there’s certainly no glory in death. Just death. But it would be ok. I do not wish it. But I do not feel that I fear it either. It would be ok. I feel like I understand how soldiers run into a hail of bullets. I understand how firefighters run into a burning building. It is just death. And here I am. And here this is. And onwards I walk. And it would be ok.
On a side, I don’t want to scare anyone. I don’t feel like I’m in danger or that my death is more likely here than anywhere else, but rather that I feel and see death all around me here. And it challenges my illusion that I have any control when it comes.