I remember the call.
The call that killed my childlike innocent view of life.
I battled with the thought of death for the first time.
If I died tomorrow, would that be okay?
Who would be the last person I speak to if I died?
Who did I want to tell that I loved them?
What would be the last thing I would do?
I still don't know the answers to these questions.
Maybe I never will.
Maybe I'll never become comfortable with the idea of death.
Maybe I'll stare at a world I no longer recognize, still scared of death.
I don't know who I am anymore, but maybe I never will.
Maybe, that's okay.
Dec 7, 2025
Dec 7, 2025 at 9:49 PM UTC
I remember the call.
The call that killed my childlike innocent view of life.
I battled with the thought of death for the first time.
If I died tomorrow, would that be okay?
Who would be the last person I speak to if I died?
Who did I want to tell that I loved them?
What would be the last thing I would do?
I still don't know the answers to these questions.
Maybe I never will.
Maybe I'll never become comfortable with the idea of death.
Maybe I'll stare at a world I no longer recognize, still scared of death.
I don't know who I am anymore, but maybe I never will.
Maybe, that's okay.