My greatest fear is similar to that of being forgotten
But it’s more about living with the knowledge that when I’m gone, I’ll be forgotten
Maybe that’s why, when I was younger, carving things like ‘Angela was here’ on desks, felt like such a necessity
This great fear of mine
It’s not that I won’t exist
It’s the that I will have left no discernible mark on this world
Other than my carbon footprints
I wonder if that’s the reason people have children…
To ensure a piece of them lives on
It’s like a taste of immortality
I’ve got no delusions of grandeur
I won’t have discovered some new disease or uncovered some brilliant theory that will propel my name forward
There’s no legacy to leave behind
Who knows when?
My life will end
And that will just sorta be the gist of it…
Seems anticlimactic after everything, doesn’t it?
It’s the thought of having endured so much and then one day, it’s just *poof* over
And there’s nothing to show for it
It seems like such a waste of time
Time wasted throughout a lifetime
Time eaten up by anxiety and panic attacks and Optic Neuritis and depression
Time that I can never get back
There’s nothing more fear inducing than running out of time
On a test, in a race
Needing more time
But looking up at that damn clock
And seeing the seconds tick tick tick
It’s like Tyler Durden says in Fight Club:
‘This is your life and it’s ending one minute at a time’
That realization is supposed to motivate you
To live fully
But what if all it does, is leave you paralyzed in fear?
What if it just haunts you?
Always reminding you
That time is slipping away
And you haven’t done what you were supposed to?
What you were meant to do?
What if it just reminds you that what you had, you simply wasted?
I hate the idea of leaving behind a gravestone with my name
And yet I am even more terrified of the possibility, in which that might be the only mark I’ve left on this earth