"I've seen too much, you haven't seen enough."

I was lying in bed a couple nights ago, staring at the ceiling. Thoughts slowly churning, reflecting on the day, being bored. The ceiling should've fallen on me; otherwise, I wouldn't be writing this bullshit.

My thoughts turned to my dad, and my grandfather. How they looked in their caskets. The bodies were there. They, however, were not. And I thought about how strange it must be for me to not exist. For as long as I was capable of thinking of death, I never fully grasped it until I was lying in bed one fucking random night.

I knew all along I was going to die eventually. But it never had an effect on me. Then I was lying in bed a couple nights ago. When I felt my stomach turn. And my eyes welled up.

I am going to die. This body will stop working for me. I will eventually lose every single thing I supposedly "own." And love. Andrea. Mom. Cookies. Knowing happiness and shit.

And it made me wonder, those who say they aren't afraid of death; do they really understand?

Now TIME FOR A FUN SWIM!!! YIPPIE!!! AND SOME AWESOME DINNER!!!