Death

Not as dark as it sounds. Please leave a review if you can

I like to think about death, and how insignificant it is

If I die, what does it really matter? Do I deal with it?

Do I deal with eternal nothingness, spending my afterlife in the Fields of Asphodel?

Do I deal with eternal pain and torment for not believing in the existence of a, or the correct, deity?

Am I sent up to pearly white gates of people, because I supposedly ticked all the right boxes for afterlife enlightenment?

Or do I just start over, constantly being reincarnated to experience it again for some arbitrary reason?

The only reason we fear death is we don't know what it entails.

We don't know if we receive rebirth or retribution

If something hurts, we still do it. Needles hurt, I still get them.

So if I knew I had retribution waiting, would I accept it?

Ignorance is bliss, and I’ve been relatively content all my life

To not know what happens after that car flies around the corner, and turning me into a paler white floating version of myself

To not know what happens when the six months the doctor gave me ends at two

To not know what happens when I shut my eyes for them to never open again

As Arctic Monkeys put it, “Do I Wanna Know?”

And do I care? I’m focused on living, not dying

Since I don’t know what happens after my finite existence reaches it’s premature climax, do I govern myself by it?

Or do I govern life by life? Not death.