People will not share the same thoughts as I do, but despite the amount of suffering, I carry the excitement to see the raw world with my own view. I have been too worried of death despite having a young age, just from watching the reality of my parent’s faces growing weathered, and only seeing remnants of my grandmother’s existence (her clothing, pictures, diaries) when I watched her scold me, and laugh until tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, from just a year ago

Come to think about it, I believe we do remember the best parts of someone once they have died, my grandmother often scolded me until my father had to defend me, saying that “it is still morning time” and I “have school”, and once she passed away, I wept tears for her because the last time I saw her, I held her fragile hand, and she said, “don’t forget about your dentist appointment” in the most weak tone I have ever heard

That memory has resurfaced multiple times in random days where I had nothing to do with my time, but overthink. Death is inescapable, so might as well enjoy the unusually bitter cold wind on my face, and the mundane routine of school. I often wondered if other people throughout history carried the same thoughts as I did, and of course they did, because they were humans too, right? Once human, and probably nothing but remnants of their existence implanted into physical objects. But I dread the thought of something else, the possibility that I won’t be able to see the universe in its chaotic glory after I die, What a joke, it is a sick joke really. Even these thoughts keep disrupting my happiness on a random day, I remind myself that I am far too young to be thinking of these thoughts, so I am starting to enjoy the slow mundane parts that make up everything. It has made me realize that spending more time with perpetual anxiety about my mortality will make me regret ever living with that mindset at my deathbed, than taking it easy, and accepting that we were meant to return to the cosmos after we were created from it