no traveler returns
Today, I had another little reminder - I am going to die.
I don't want to. And it's not that undiscovered country that I'm afeared of - it's all the other undiscovered countries, within and outside of myself, that I don't want to miss.
It's the fear of a slow and steady decline. It's the fear of losing my physical faculties while my mind remains intact. It's the fear of becoming a burden - and then, suddenly, discovering that I can't take care of myself and that nobody else wants to do it. And that I won't want them to do it, either.
It's fear of pain that keeps going and going and nothing stops it.
It's fear that I will have put important, meaningful, necessary, dreamed-about things off for silly reasons, only to abruptly realize that the window to do those things has closed.
Fear of resentment, basically. Fear of the monumental beast that is my own resentment.
For now, my body is more or less whole. But I feel my own fragility today, like a tiny baby bird in cupped hands.