Sometimes I am my own worst enemy.
I usually called it anxiety attack.
It happens a lot.
Since I was a kid. Long before I
knew existentialism.
I once told my mother that I prefer
to be a small particle in the air, unnoticed, unseen. I thought it just
sounds peaceful but she said it doesn’t sound grateful.
I'm thrown into this world.
Trapped in this family. Trapped in this body. Trapped in this religion. Trapped
in this tradition. Trapped in this age. Trapped in this name.
That is why I don’t fear death.
Death is so close. Death is everywhere. Our physical bodies simply decay when
we die, just like that rotten rat. Disgusting, but we shouldn’t fear death
because when we die, we’ll be free from this body.
But then the idea of being thrown and trapped
in another world; the spirit world, freaked me out. There would still be no escape.
Then I realized that it’s anxiety that scared me the most.
And now it almost feels like a
joke. I feel like a bad joke.
