I just realized that its weird that I am scared/sad to die. I don’t even like the world, Its not like a kid leaving a water park, death is like leaving the Dentist office
im scared too man. nobody knows what comes next. there are many wonderful and sometimes scary thoeries about it but nooone has come back to tell about it.
i remember reading an article about a little kid that diesd for a few minutes and saw his granny and a white light. thats a nice thought isnt it?
I read an interview about various people who saw that it was more like a counsel setting. That brought me a feeling of relief in a way, but I still prefer my childish idea of a endless field of varying flowers to run through
I’m not scared of what comes next because I’m as sure as I can be that there is nothing.
I’m just scared that I will end things before I should. I’m pretty certain I’ll never get another chance at life – not here, or anywhere else – so I’m kind of cautious about giving it away too soon.
I hate life at the moment, and always have done – and yet somewhere in me there is a strange desire to keep going as long as I can. I know if I reach 80 and have spent all my years in misery, I’ll probably be really annoyed at myself for not ending things earlier. But I suppose I could at least console myself with the knowledge that I gave things a chance.
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im scared too man. nobody knows what comes next. there are many wonderful and sometimes scary thoeries about it but nooone has come back to tell about it.
i remember reading an article about a little kid that diesd for a few minutes and saw his granny and a white light. thats a nice thought isnt it?
I read an interview about various people who saw that it was more like a counsel setting. That brought me a feeling of relief in a way, but I still prefer my childish idea of a endless field of varying flowers to run through
I’m not scared of what comes next because I’m as sure as I can be that there is nothing.
I’m just scared that I will end things before I should. I’m pretty certain I’ll never get another chance at life – not here, or anywhere else – so I’m kind of cautious about giving it away too soon.
I hate life at the moment, and always have done – and yet somewhere in me there is a strange desire to keep going as long as I can. I know if I reach 80 and have spent all my years in misery, I’ll probably be really annoyed at myself for not ending things earlier. But I suppose I could at least console myself with the knowledge that I gave things a chance.