Death, And Anxiety, And I

Do you ever wake up and feel like the one you love has already left you for someone else?

Do you constantly feel like you’re walking on a sheet of glass every time you’re bound to sleep because you know that there’s a possibility that he will no longer be beside you when you wake up?

Do you constantly cry yourself to sleep for the phantom of the end is haunting you down?

I cannot precisely dictate if what you have is love, because maybe it is, maybe it’s not.

One thing I can tell you however is that, I feel the same way everyday.

I wake up in the middle of the night panting, gasping for air because the thought of separation is clasping its hands around my throat and I can’t breathe. My heart is pounding, screaming because it’s anxiously presuming the next goodbye, or the next “no-goodbye”. My body is emitting unbearable heat because it’s trying to make sense of this all too familiar feeling. I want to whisk it away from my system but a part of me is telling me that maybe this is my gut speaking to me, consoling me, so that I could embrace the upcoming separation gracefully.

The fear of the end if pointless, if you’re going to consider the fact that we’re bound to be buried six feet under the ground one day.

But the fear of dying before you even die is why I am so afraid.

They all tell us that we’re all going to die, but nobody ever told us about how often we would.

I first died when I was around 14.

And I am afraid because death comes creeping in when you least expect it to arrive.

I am afraid because even after all the deaths that I have encountered, I am still afraid of the next one, and the one after that.

Right now, I am beginning to search for my next death.

Because I just want to get it over with.

But maybe that’s why I am always anxious.

Despite the absence of death, I seek it, because death is the only thing that could make me feel.

Death feels like forever.

Happiness is short and fleeting.

Why do I feel like this?

I want to stop seeking the end in everything.

I want to stop affixing periods in my love story.

I don’t want to die.

But death makes me feel alive.

And so do you.

And I’m choosing you.

And I’m choosing you.

 

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