I’ve developed quite the fear of death. The thought of having no other alternative in the end other than blinking out of existence brings up the worry that existence is entirely pointless, whereas we can only hope our actions and ideas carry on greater momentum than we created.

And yet, we’ll die. Surrender existence. Forgo our intelligent and self-conscious awareness of the universe around us. It seems as though I’m stuck watching one channel on television. Did I like it? Did it make sense? Did it at least serve to make a compelling point about something relevant, or in the least, something interesting?

Some of us are stuck serving out an existence bound by certain social constraints which most of us, as to avoid ruining an enjoyable life for others and ourselves, conform to and perhaps agree with. While we’ll disagree with some ideas, disagreeing or agreeing makes it that much better knowing we’re capable of demonstrating a certain degree of free will and thought. Learning and developing a deeper understanding of anything is motivation enough to continue living.

I could never pull together the will of choosing to kill myself. I’m driven insane enough with the thought I’m going to die. Although, I find respect for people such as Cesque or my late brother. They’re the individuals who've been able to accept death, as they feel there are worse things to worry about.

I’m going to turn 19 any day, and most would find it confusing that a person of my age would have such worries of death, as I have many years ahead of me. Some that I have spoken with feel a fear of death is somewhat selfish, assuming the such fears lead to nihilistic thinking, devaluing everything, neglecting the problems of others, and refusing to contribute to much of anything, arguing that existence is meaningless. In my case they may be right, that my fears of death may evolve to such thinking.

I wonder how much of our actions are motivated as a result of knowing we’re eventually going to die. Finding and fulfilling a purpose for living seems more a matter of combating our fears of death than anything else sometimes. How much would the lives of individuals change if their conception of death was not that of ceasing to exist, but simply something never thought of or concerned with? Would we have ever been as intelligent as we are today if it wasn’t for the first groups of primates who saw enough of death objectively that they were able to acknowledge their lives would eventually end that drove them to slowly realizing alternative actions which could have otherwise kept them alive? I wonder if our continued observations and learning of the universe is simply a means of keeping death at bay, where we may end up like Isaac Asimov’s humans in “The Last Questionâ€?, hoping to reverse entropy, to live another day, learning, simply existing.

Continuing our conflict between developing reason and evading death seems to provide the only meaning to things. Assuming we find a way to exist forever, reason is finite, a death in its own I would think once we reach the end of reason, whereas any meaning is lost in ubiquitous understanding and knowledge. Thus, we'll die either way. :\