Man why the fuck do people have to die (people I like, people I hate -I'm glad they die, not disappointed about that at all, fuck them- but people I like? That's awful. I fucking hate it. Grandpa was the first person to die. Then Uncle. Then Grandma. Soon it'll be Dad (but he was a douche bag to everyfucking body, a bully), but first Other Grandma, who doesn't fucking talk to me anymore because I went on a rant about race and mixing because I was brainwashed by Stefan Molyneux and I don't know what to say to her to open communication, I don't know if I even want to, because Idk if I can even handle it. But Other Grandpa? Never knew him. Never seen his face, never known his name. He was some mulatto guy. That's all I know. That's it. Then Mom...then it's just me and my siblings, and some cousins. And none of us talk much, I hope I have my cabeza together enough by then to be able to handle life alone, emotionally. I'm the oldest so I'll be the first to go out of who's left...which kind of troubles me. Feels like I'll be missing out. Though I suppose that's how everyone else must feel too when they die. They feel like they're missing out on what's to come, but that makes it sound so terrible, and maybe it is. Maybe dying is terrible.
And if it is like that, if it is like nothing, forever, just thought, then isn't it the best idea to "gather ye rosebuds while ye may"? For in doing so you will enrich yourself with experience, maybe even experience enough to last an eternity. The more you experienced experience, the more you are capable of imagining, and it is exponential, it is fractal. Splits upon splits upon splits, deviations and derivations, af infinitum, like rick and morty. So maybe do your living now, while you can, so you don't have to spend an eternity with variations of you doing the most mundane fucking shit you can think of for however many fucking years. Do something. Meet someone. Talk. Jump. Fly. Swim. Swim with sharks. Like I did. For real I swam with sharks no cage. Do some shit. Fuck.
I mean I understand the appeal of religion, it's very comforting to believe that something beautiful is waiting for you after you die. But is it? What if it's not? What if it's terrible? What if it's hell? Forever? What if it's disembodied consciousness? Another kind of hell. Just floating, in the void, not seeing, not hearing, not feeling, forever. What madness and suffering that would be I don't even want to imagine. It makes me want to vomit.