We speak of death as an ending, but in a sense it is an interruption. We die “in media res” - in the middle of something. It’s strange to think that while going about a particular routine or goal, we’ll suddenly cease to exist, leaving behind something unfinished or unfulfilled. Think of the posthumous works of various artists and writers, or of all those who died before their potential could be realized. If there’s one thing that scares me, it’s dying without having truly lived.
This keeps me up many a night.
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