I’ve been preoccupied with death for a good portion of my life. It use to be rare but of course has become frequent. What if the ground suddenly fell from under me? What if the bridge I’m on or the building I’m in collapsed? What if I suddenly have a brain aneurysm. What if this bus, train, airplane malfunctioned? For whatever reason, I’ve ponder these things quite a bit. Intrusive but never scary or anxiety inducing. I don’t think I’ve ever been afraid of dying. I do get worried about it being slow and painful. Maybe concerned about what awaits me on the other side. The unknown is scary for sure. But death itself, not existing, eh.
This perspective or relationship with termination gives me a morbid sense of humor that is really off putting, I know. But we all gotta go at some point, right?