I’ve never been afraid of death. That’s mainly because I feel like I have nothing to leave behind. I have no child to leave behind, whose welfare I have to worry about the moment I stopped breathing. Of course, I have my family, my parents and brothers. But they can take care of themselves. My family along with my friends will grieve for some time and then they’re going to go on with their lives.
I’ve never been afraid of death… until I came to the possibility that I was out of time. It was nothing really. It was just me being my usual paranoid self. I had seen a doctor and when I got home I decided to Google my medical results.
And then I started reading about the likelihood of cancer at freaking 2AM and my follow-up appointment wasn’t until two weeks after…
It’s laughable right now. But a few weeks ago, I found myself thinking whether or not I should tell my family. If I decide I would, how do I tell them? I found myself composing goodbye letters for all those people who mean to me. I found myself crying like I was actually about to die.
And on those crazy moments, I thought about all the things I missed. The place I haven’t gone to because I kept postponing my trip there. The trip I’ve always wanted to take with friends. The hobby I still haven’t pursued. The book I haven’t read. The get-togethers I missed because I didn’t feel like seeing people that day. All the play-times with my dog that I put off. All the trivial things I should have done a long time ago but didn’t.
That’s when I realized that I haven’t lived yet. Up until then, I’ve never been so afraid to die because I didn’t realize how much I haven’t lived until I thought I was out of time.