Death doesn’t scare me. Not even from an illness or a crash. I almost wish for it.
Why, be so carless? Do i just want to hasten the afterlife in a pleasant place or just to stop being here?
I like life now, don’t get me to wrong.
I just spend time, to much time, thinking about death. Mine or others close to me, or just in my circles.
It seems when someone from one of my circles is absent, I imagine all sorts of things happening to the missing person. A crash or hit and run, and a call or visit to me from the .
The police visit gets to be pretty vivid.
It comes from a shocking, out of the blue visit from my principal. My step father had died. I was attending a boarding school in Iowa. My mom, and step father where living in Florida. They had been remarried a year or so.
My bond had been naturally started, because of the dearth of a father figure. I was 16. The untimely severance and being helpless and away; set a path in my imagination when I’m alone.
Death equals grief and sadness, but there’s more. Death isn’t the end. I know there must be an ending for a creator to be lifted up. Death is a beginning for the dead one as well as for the ones left.
My imagination goes to all the possible scenario’s of a restart. Its a mental fix not to be disappointed when my imagination doesn’t pan true. Yet when does imagination pan out?
Just don’t be late alright?
“A peace that endurance, thine own presence to cheer and to guide”