Even though I’m well out of 8th grade, I still remember my 8th grade teacher, an incredibly interesting person. She’s planned how she wants to, ideally, die. 70-something now, she almost embraces the thought of death, not because she doesn’t love life, just because she’s that kind of person; I think she sees death as just another challenge to get through. She wants to go to a very snowy place, dig herself a little snow-house, and let herself freeze there, because she’s heard it’s one of the most peaceful ways to go. Your body slowly shuts down, is numb of pain, and you slowly drift into an unconscience sleep….
Death kind of fascinates me. I have a very atheist father, and a quietly religious mother, so I’ve been kind of split my entire life. My dad would tell me when I was very young about how (he believes) there is nothing after life here. It use to scare me a lot. But it didn’t sit right with me. And the older I got, the more I wanted to be able to try and figure out what I believed, not what he told me to believe. So I thought about death a lot, imagined dying.
I’m not sure how much I fear death, partly because I’m not sure what I believe will happen after. Where I’m at right now, I don’t believe it’ll be the end completely… I don’t know how to put into words what I think will happen… so when anyone asks me my view on it, I don’t know how to answer. I know I believe something, but I can’t seem to find a way to get what that is across to anyone.
But what I realized when I was younger, and feel even stronger about now, is that I’d rather eventually die than live forever. Because if I’m around forever, what’s the point in doing anything? I could do it some time in the future, and I know I’ll eventually have done everything I possibly could do, thought everything I possibly could think, so many times I’d be sick of life. I’m sure that if I lived forever, I’d be longing to die. Forever’s too long for me… so what most people find comforting, an eternal afterlife, isn’t for me.
Would I be scared if I was told I’d die tomorrow? Probably. I wouldn’t want to know how I’d die. I would, but I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t want to see it coming, I don’t think. I’d be sad, because of all the time I’ve wasted recently lost in my own head, all the time I should’ve been spending with the people I love. I’d be worried how they’d all take it. I wouldn’t want them to mourn over me.
But even though I’d be scared, I can’t help but feeling like I’d be a little bit excited, if I was happier with where my life was, if I could leave being proud of who I was. And it’s for a stupid reason, really. But I have a burning curiosity on everything. Death is no exception. I’ve wondered for so long what will happen! And when it comes, I’ll finally know… so that’s how I’ve decided to look at death. It’ll be the final answer I get to this life I have right now, no matter what it winds up being.