Death looms unnoticeably closer today. Surely one of the greatest achievement of human evolution is our ability to delude ourself in thinking we are somewhat, from time to time, invincible, to deliberately ignore such thing as grand as death: something that was interwoven so deeply in the roots of everything we do and are.
Thinking about death always resulted in a stinging head and a spinning stomach, for it requires one to stir the coherent void of chaos inside one's being, I suppose. As a self proclaimed HSP, I indeed find myself only able to appropriately breathe, in a literal sense, inside a dark chambre without much needed addition. Just a dark room, no necessary sound/music, no temperature adjusting devices, nothing. A comfy bed is of course desirable, but at times sitting on the floor staring at nothing and resting my mind is enough. I imagine death, with the very limited knowledge that I have now, as somewhat related to my previous statement (but with of course a totally different scale): of a dark nothingness, floating away with no direction and no sense of time or space, before reaching the afterlife. I have no intention to seek the valley beyond, since there was no absolute certainty of what lies ahead and there is an absolute certainty of us never fully knowing all there is to understand. Sure, being terrified of things unknown is one of man's primordial nature of being (perhaps a vice or a virtue), but given the argument beforehand and in addition, faith, I should not be afraid of death.
But here I am, lying in bed writing, after previously climbing up the stairs to my room with a brain that felt like the aftertaste of being choked.