I have this terrible fear that I’m going to die soon. Everytime I think about something that might happen – something positive in the future, I instinctively think “oh gosh, what if I die before then?” People say to me “this will happen next year,” or “be patient, it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t happen this year.” But then I always think “of course it matters, of course it does. I could die. I could so easily die. Then it won’t have happened.”
I mean what a ridiculous thing to be worried about. But I’m just painfully aware that there are things outside of my control, and that the world can just suddenly throw something at you and then poof you’re gone. You become an obitury, a headstone, a handful dust and a bunch of could have beens. It’s a chilling thought. Frankly I don’t know how it isn’t driving everyone bananas, it’s certainly making me go a bit mad. I KNOW it’s crazy, I know it is. I imagine it’s just because there’s so much I’m eager to do in my life, so much I’m eager to achieve – but that it will all take some time, and so I’m panicking that because I’m so desperate for it I’ll probably die in the mean time and then I’ll never achieve it. Sigh. Well I won’t with that attitude I guess. That’s what mum would say.
SIGH again. Big sigh. Weird mind these past few days. I’ve had a lot I want to do but I feel like I haven’t made any progress. This frustrates me. I need to do more. If I do more, I’ll feel like I’m achieving more, then I’ll feel better about myself. Yeah. I’ll do that.