My anxiety has been especially bad lately. I have been meaning to ask my doctor to prescribe me Ativan, which I have received from a different doctor in the past, but I keep chickening out.
In a hilarious twist of irony, after spending over a year killing myself slowly and experiencing periodic urges to instead do it quickly, I have been feeling pathologically afraid of death nearly all the time. I have been spending a majority of my time fearing freak accidents, violent attacks, and my heart finally deciding it’s done with my crap. Essentially, I am apparently under the impression that I am living in a Final Destination movie.
This fear of death has led to an obsession with the meaning my life would have if it suddenly ended today. In other words, I cannot stop thinking about my legacy. I feel this urgency to voice every thought, to take every action, to live every dream I have ever had. Today. It is stressful and burdensome and exhausting.
As I write this, I am quickly realizing that this is all I have to say on the matter. There is no real solution, and no larger message. But I feel significantly better just expressing these thoughts. So on the off-chance that I die in five seconds, the world will be aware that I felt this way.