"Who wants to live forever?" sang Freddie Mercury.
I do, for one.
My aunt passed away in early 2003 as a result of jaundice and when I walked past her open coffin at her night vigil, I was hit hard by the juxtaposition of the lively, gregarious and expressive person she was and the pale, cold, lifeless body that lay in the coffin. That was the first time I was confronted by the fact that someday I’ll suffer the same fate. Death scares the living shit out of me. I’m told that my fear is a function of the uncertainty of what will happen to me after death - whether there’s an afterlife, whether there’s a God who will banish me to hell for the sins I’ve committed that have gone unrepented for.
I want my youth and my life to be infinite. I can’t see myself in a coffin or an urn.