When My Time is Up, Have I Done Enough?

More Hamilton titles. I can’t help it. I almost had a panic attack and Hamilton brings me back to a happy place.

The reason for my near panic attack was an article in Lifehacker titled “What It Feels Like to Die”. I only got a few paragraphs in before my chest tightened and my face got hot. If I read any further, I was going to have a full on panic attack. 

Ever since I was a kid, the thought of dieing sent me into a panic.

When I was around 8, there was something on TV that depicted the end of the world and predicted that it would happen in 2000. I ran into my bedroom in tears. When my siblings and parents came to check on me, I wailed, “I don’t want to die. Dieing means nothing forever!”

You’d think that 22 years later I would be over my fear of dieing. But, fuck that; that shit is scary!

I always wonder if I reach more of my goals if I would become okay with death. Like if I lost 70lbs and looked good in a bikini would I be like, “This is as good as it gets. Take me now”?

Or if I finally got an essay published would I not freak out over every new mole on my body that is surely cancerous?

Or if Lin Manuel Miranda replied to one of my Tweets would I stop looking both ways, three times, before crossing the street?

Only one way to find out, I guess. Time to make some shit happen.

 

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