Slick Slimy Inky Sickness for 25 years have gripped my mind, swallowing every last bit of joy I ever knew.

Every week was a new project to find a better way to end it. A morbid hobby, it's true, but anything seemed better than this wasteland of broken thoughts and heartache.

Then the fear gripped my heart.

The absolute fear of death, of the void, of the end of conciousness and all things.

An eternity unawake, not graced by even dreams as aeon passes by, unaware of the fear.

As the Sun dies and swallows the light, and the Earth freezes and crumbles, long after you too die, we will still be dead. Unawake. Not even dreaming.

I am terrified of the absolute nothing.

But it still comes for me.
And you.