Born To Die

When I was a kid, I used to worry a lot about death. I used to spend each day wishing the day would never end because as the sun sets, my fear that the moon will eat me alive also grows bigger. Almost every night, I’d imagine myself passing away and wondering what was it like to perish. I thought my parents would be sad, my favorite cousins would cry like children who lost their favorite toys, and my brothers wouldn’t care so much because I know they hated me before but they will feel somehow guilty when I’m gone.

It was only my own childish concept of afterlife that could make the fear somehow go away. In that life, I will be born as a rich girl with famous and wealthy celebrity parents. As I grow older, I’d feel something is lacking in my life even if I’m literally given everything, all the things that I’ve been fantasizing about in the past—the beauty since my parents are both equally good-looking; the Barbie dolls I’ve always been wanting in my past life; the latest unit of Nokia phone even if I was just a child; a dollhouse that I could fit in; and all the gifts that an only child could ever have. I will grow up in search of that certain thing that’s making me feel incomplete.

Somewhere along the voyage for satisfaction, I realized that I wouldn’t be able to find what I’ve been looking for by moving forward because they are in the past. One day, I have dreamt of my real mom and dad, crying about the loss of their youngest and only daughter although I’m not really sure what killed me, probably a sickness or a suicide. Then I would feel trap in the afterlife. I will feel unhappy despite the perfect life and thought of going back to my previous life. But even then I knew, once you’re already dead, you can never go back.

News about famous people passing away, plain crash incidents that killed tons of passengers, and soldiers murdered by terrorists, among others, have never been so significant to me until these past few months. Whether or not because they’ve been occurring so close to each other, I really don’t know what to feel about it, trying to ignore its relevance to the entirety of the human life, thinking something bad really happens every day anyway, so what? People dies, no one lives, no one is safe from dying, all these, vice versa.

I’ve been sick for the past week, not the ordinary cough and cold although they are really basically those. Something is hardly stuffed in my crappy lungs and sinus, making it hard for me to breathe from both the mouth and nostrils, that every time I cough, I struggle to go back to sanity. Last Sunday, this awful cough woke me at 4am and didn’t let me sleep throughout the day. My head ached from too much coughing and my throat felt overly scratched. There were days that I literally want to chop off my head from my body to escape from the pain. Just when my days are supposedly brighter, my health yet again took a toll on my life.

This is the second time this year that I felt this sick, yes, twice already and the second month of 2015 has just started. I haven’t been getting much of a decent sleep these days. I’ve been on meds for days now but my breathing is not even close to becoming normal again, whatever normal would actually feel like. Since I was a kid, I always have this respiratory problem that would often make me sleepless as a child. It temporarily went away when I became active in sports during high school but now it’s back. I could feel that it’s finally back again to haunt me forever.

I have obsessed about the thought of dying again although this time, the dose of fear I get is much greater. I haven’t achieved anything yet. In retrospect, I haven’t even got too close from any of my dreams yet except having been able to “write for a living”, which is not even a fully achieved goal because it should but never lead me towards independence.

Anyway, I stopped being scared now. I decided to fight. “This sickness wouldn’t kill me but the fear will.” I picked up that line in a movie I watched earlier. That was right. If I want to live longer, I shall not live in fear. After all, we were all born to die.