You should be okay with dying

You should be okay with dying. It’s going to happen.

You should be okay with being okay with dying. It’s inevitable.

You should be okay with being okay with being okay with dying. Most times you will be this without you ever knowing.

Kinda like how you are once you die.

You really won’t notice most times. And you won’t even notice that you don’t notice. Most times.

Sometimes you will notice that you are afraid of dying. Sometimes this will only happen when you’re about to die.

Those times are the worst.

If you only ever fear death once, you died scared. Having feared death many times, I can tell you a life lived past each fear is better. Most times.

Because with fear we reach the end of our understanding. We buckle at the knees.

Fear lies at the boundary of the known and the unknown.

Only by crossing the border do we learn.

Or forget.

Knowing there is a line is enough. There is a demarcation. There is an end.

You will die.

And that’s okay.

It should be okay.

It will inevitably be okay.

Because it will happen. And that’s okay.

It has happened to every single thing that has been. We are invariably all past tense.

Whether it’s now or sometime in the future, eventually you will be gone.

And that’s okay. It happens to all of us.

And there could be no injustice so great it happens to all of us. A god so cruel I could not curse. Imagine how much worse it can be.

And no matter how bad it is, it will end. And sometimes that will be okay.

And sometimes it will be okay that it’s okay.

Sometimes it won’t be. And that’s okay too.

Sometimes it’s not.

It will happen all the same. To the just and unjust will be both justice and injustice, not always in that order. Not always in equal measure. But always.

The inevitable has at least that much in its favor. Inertia from mass, mass from matter, something to matter.

It happens. It happened. It will happen. It once will have happened. It’s happening now. And then. Other times too. Most times. All the times we know about.

The times we don’t know about scare us. Some of those times we are dead. Most times. And that scares us.

And that’s okay. It’s going to happen.

And it’s okay that it’s okay.

And it’s okay to be okay with it being okay. And that shouldn’t scare us.

You really won’t notice most times.

And you won’t even notice that you don’t notice. Most times.

And that’s okay.

It’s called living.

And some of us are doing it. And some of us have done it. And some of us might still do it yet. And then we don’t.

A window between two nonexistences, life is lived. Always eventually lived.

To say one has lived is the highest praise that the living and the lived have yet thought to call life.

We wish to live as maximally in all directions we have yet measured in/of life. So long as we are in/of that life.

Afterward we don’t care. We do not write our own postscripts. And that is okay.

We should eventually let others have a turn. We had ours.

May you have yours as you want it. It’s okay to want it that way. Most of the time. So long as you let others have it theirs as they want it.

It’s called living. And letting live. And we are doing it.

But eventually life will be done with us and/or we will be done with it.

And that will be it. For us at least. For others eventually.

And that’s okay.

All whom we will ever learn of and/or forget, all that is known and unknown, ending — ends — ended.

End.