dear ida,
we talk about how we're scared to fly, but scared for different reasons. he talks about crashes and such but i talk about being worried that the guy next to me is going to snap and start murdering people. then i tell him about how i feel guilty that i think these things about perfectly innocent people while i'm flying these days, but they worry me. more than the plane, which as fucked up as it is, is a bit of a relief because for a while every little noise i would hear on a plane would make me certain we were going to crash. ugh.
but then he asked how i wanted to die, plane or not, and i could only manage to say unaware and he seemed surprised at this and asked if i wouldnt want to know those were my final last moments, etc.
really, no. i thought. i dont want to know. i want to be here and happy and then suddenly it ends. no awareness, just dark. game over.
xo, me
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