One day, me - the person I am right this very moment, typing down at my little phone screen while the world is wizzing by above me as I shuttle home - will die. I will be no more. The thoughts I think, the emotions I feel, will one day stop existing. I don’t know what will happen after that. I can’t seem to comprehend what it might be like to stop thinking. But, I am hopeful I will continue for a happy spell, watching my loved ones, hopefully children, grow old without me. And then I’ll decide to go again.
God, if I think about it too much everything feels so surreal. I look at this tube carriage, the people around me, and feel I can myself try to adjust to the strange sensation. It can’t cope with it - I don’t know how to get past that.
And so, my mind reverts back to the usual - what will be at home, what should I eat, what art should I do, how should I be feeling, what’s going on...and so on.
This is not to be morbid, it’s just saying it how it is.
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