4am junk
Current mood:  frustrated

I'm not afraid of dying, not the actual act of it happening. Though, perhaps, I am afraid of what happens afterwards. Entering the unknown. I'm scared of that. I'm scared of what will happen to me. I forget that people die sometimes. And when I remember that all good things come to an end, good people, I begin to spiral. People die. I wish that wasn't the case. I wish life could go on for eternity, my life, my parents' lives, my loved ones' lives. It's a selfish thought, I'm well aware. Overpopulation, etc.. Life goes on, without me, without my family. It's just the way it is. I know we have to enjoy our lives while they last, but I can't help but think about what happens after. My thoughts, my soul, where do they go? I have no religion to lean on for hope, just pure and utter confusion; frustration. I hate this feeling. Maybe I am afraid of dying. Whoops.