I've got irrational fears, too, you know.
For instance, I've always felt the next moment, I'll plop. I'll be dead. For no reason.
Just.. Game over.
I've tried to visualize what people behind me would do then. A gazillion tests, autopsies.. but no one will know how I died.
That's the fear. But there's more.. Probably a death wish.
I've always been fascinated with the sound the air makes, especially when you're racing down a highway at kill or die speed, and you can hear nothing but the wind spiraling into your ear.
I wonder what the air would've been like if it was human.
If she was human.
Air's definitely a she.
Why else would it come rushing down on you when you raced into it and play dead when you don't make a move towards it? Why else would it be ready to be inhaled knowing well it'd be exhaled, would fill a room and leave too, entering every time the doors opened, keep streaming in through spaces, in and out, out and in, and after all that ruckus, still be there all the time?
I've always believed I will be the air, someday. Not in its frantic indecisiveness, but in form. The former I've quite successfully achieved, without trying too hard.
The concept of death, is somewhere, too in your face. It just happens. BANG! POW! SWOOSH.... rigor mortis. How unvaliant!
For all the havoc I've created in others lives and in my own, the end of me can't be just froth and stiff veins.
So, I've decided I will not die.
I will just cease to exist.
Sometime, any time now, actually, I will just dissipate, evanesce into thin air. Like Maya memsaab, I will not die. I will just evaporate and I will float around for ever with no form or shape.
But then, I'll miss being an individual. And if I'm around floating about and no one really tries more than one autopsy, I'll be shattered. I'll feel extremely insignificant and unimportant, forgotten in the chaos of everyday life and worries. I guess that's what its like for the air, though.
But I'll still be around. I'll come rushing down on you when you race into me and play dead when you don't make a move towards me. I'll be inhaled knowing well I'll be exhaled, and will fill a room and leave too, enter every time the doors open, keep streaming in through spaces, in and out, out and in, and after all that ruckus, I'll still be there all the time.
You know what?
The air and I'll do just fine.
Ok, death! I'm ready!