Death

There is you who lies to the world and there is you who tells truths to your own self.
The inside self -- is it scared of the end?

Are you afraid of your own, inevitable death? The end of all that there is?
Are you scared of it? Are you anxious? Are you ignoring it? Do you think you're even mature enough to fully comprehend death? Have you ever experienced loss of another?
How do you deal with knowing that, very soon, you will cease to exist and the world won't even notice?

Jam it back in, in the dark.

The last great adventure is how I look at it.
Reason through it:
What's the worst case? Nothing afterward. You won't even know it, and thus no harm, no loss.
Best case? Anything at all. Like Dostoevsky says....

"Where is it I've read that someone condemned to death says or thinks, an hour before his death, that if he had to live on some high rock, on such a narrow ledge that he'd only room to stand, and the ocean, everlasting darkness, everlasting solitude, everlasting tempest around him, if he had to remain standing on a square yard of space all his life, a thousand years, eternity, it were better to live so than to die at once! Only to live, to live and live!"

I'm looking forward to death. I'm curious to see what'll happen.

('course, this could be one of them shields niki was talking about, but what do you expect? I'm 20.)

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Originally Posted by DarkLink2135

Well actually the worst case would be that there is something afterwards, but it's really horrible. Maybe you have to sit in a room with, you know, Rosie o' Donnell for all eternity.

You know, you are one really dumb motherfucker. Did you even read my post?

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.