Death

There are two types of fear: learned fear, like how one looks both ways before crossing the street, and instinctual fear, the primal hook and line, tethering us to life, the fear that tells us that we are going to die. I am not afraid of ghosts and spirits, or such entities. I acknowledge their existence, but I remind myself that I have never wronged them. I am not afraid of wild animals, not because I fancy myself a Samson, armed with the Herculean ability to tear wild beasts apart with my bare hands, but rather because of the lack of leopards roaming the sidewalks and lions prowling around in the cafeteria. The fanciful notions of zombies and the undead do not perturb me, solely because I refuse to accept their existence outside of comic books and bad 80’s horror flics. The one thing I am truly afraid of is Death. Death is the final frontier. Just the lack of explanations upon the subject disturbs and upsets me to no ends.