Bring on the sunshine of your love.

I'm scared of death.

Tears well up within me each time I think of the finality of it all. There's no irony in that statement; I imagine what would happen after I let go of all that's worth knowing and I feel agitated that I'll never know that I'll be dead...simply because I'd be beyond knowing.

I don't really believe that death is a cold, yet welcoming embrace; I think death is a mechanically-perfect bitch that runs on precision and thrives on perfection. It's inescapable. Unavoidable. Inevitable.

I also, naturally, hate death. How everything that we've worked so hard to accomplish would go to waste. And how death itself would be the main catalyst for rushing ourselves to accomplish such accomplishments. And how these accomplishments might not truly benefit us once we've reached a certain parallel dimension of sorts whereby such accomplishments wouldn't accomplish much in our favour.

No, death is a pain. Death is a deadline that can never be pushed further. Death is absolute, and is resolute in its ability to be a total, whole, certain finish.

I think of the sadness of not being able to be myself once I fade away. I don't know if there's a lumbering abyss after the end of life, but the probability that everything just simply ends saddens me immensely. Some may say that death lightens up the burden that is life; I just see death as the biggest burden to carry.

I'm scared of that all there'll be is an enveloping nothingness that I won't even know of because I'd simply cease to exist.

Death makes us feel small. No matter how far we've come, it's always one step ahead.

The high cost of living.