[Trigger warning, I’m still talking about death. I’ll move on to happier topics soon, I swear.]
I’ve been contemplating death and mortality a lot lately and I don’t know what it means. I’m not passively or actively suicidal, but death is still on my mind.
Maybe it means I need to get my ass back in therapy. Maybe I’ve just reached a point in life where I’m ready to come to terms with my own mortality. Lord knows I’ve seen the inside of hospitals and ICUs enough that I probably should’ve started down this road of thinking sooner. (I wasn’t a patient, a family member was.)
Maybe I’m trying to find deeper meaning in something utterly mundane. Maybe I’m just in a low mood. Who knows. I’m sure this will clear up sometime soon.