By SheelaR

My greatest fear is death. Not the finality of it, but leaving behind a life unfulfilled. I’ve become obsessed with my own mortality, because life is fleeting; death comes without an invite.

I spend an inordinate amount of time wondering if my bucket list will be complete before I take my last breath. I want the opportunity to add footnotes to my story. I want my words to materialize before my eyes.

I obsess with the when, the where, and the how. I want know… I want to slowly slip away so that I may say “goodbyes” and “I love you’s.”

The night before, I want to sit by the water and pen my regrets and ask you to forgive me, because contrived attrition lacks sincerity. I want to be present in the moment.