How does one want death but not actually want it?
How does one crave something so violent but can’t go through with it?
Something so feared yet worshiped.
Something that lingers, following you in constant.

If you want it, it leaves, but when you feel free it comes creeping back in unwanted
Does that warrant concern? Does that make you a bad person?
To not want the unwanted now, but only when convenient to you?

Death doesn’t bargain, no, death doesn’t pull favors.
It will take and take until it’s satisfied. But when is something ever satisfied when it could have more.