Scared, not of living…but of surviving
Scared, not of sleeping…but of waking up
Scared, not of questioning…but of replies
Scared, not of participating…but of losing
Scared, not of fighting…but of fights
Scared, not of friendship…but of friends
Such a scared person I am.
But most of all, I am scared, not of dying…but of dying in pain. Stranded, Feeble. Waiting for life to end.
But what next? After we die. A new life, heaven or hell? Whatever the next may be, reality remains unperturbed…we are going to fade away.
Me don’t think of death as an evil devil. Actually, neither it is. For the dead. For they are gone. The pangs of separation are undergone by the survivors. The ones who have seen the departure with no hope of arrival. Death…So absolute! It comes, no matter what.
And when you close your eyes, the experience of seeing something/someone dying comes to you…you look at yourself in the corner. Helpless. Wondering what if death waited for some time. But then, unlike us, death is not much into postponement. Pretty punctual it is.
Death can be of any kind. Of hopes and aspirations. Of confidence and trust. Of flora and fauna. Eventually, we all learn to decode the encrypted life.
I often think, when will I be seeing my end? Death…must be an experience like no other, when it overpowers the pumping heart with a thump. Silencing it. Putting it at rest…for it had served its purpose.
Scared, I am not. Not of dying…for it is inevitable.
Scared, I am. Of dying in pain, withering slowly… is it evitable? May be not!