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Fear of Death

My body trembled as I pushed my face into my tear-soaked pillow, desperate to stay awake. What if I went to sleep and never woke up? A pit opened up in my soul, leaving me feeling fractured and empty.


I couldn't stop my mind from racing. What is Death? A black hole, a nothingness that would swallow me? What happens to me when there is no more me? Does my mind and sense of self go on, or do I just fizzle out like a spent candle?


I didn't want to find out the answer, and the only way to avoid it was to make sure I could stay awake until the dawn of a fresh new day.


I had to stay awake, for my life depended on it. My mind raced, trying to rationalize the logic. If I could make it to the dawn of the new day, I would have crossed the threshold, and it would be safe to sleep.


Night after night, I struggled, crying myself into unconsciousness, haunted by the crippling fear of the unknown.


The remains of this fear influenced the habits of my life. 


I am asleep when others are awake and awake long after everyone else has gone to sleep. I fight my eyelids, which are desperate not to close after years of excessive fear training.


Though I accept that I will never know all the answers,  my body and habits are already set in stone. 

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