=)

Obs: palavras da Sá, estou apenas atualizando por ela!
>> Carol!

“Last night I dreamed about my own death. Not me dying, but a sort of my own funeral. There was no coffin and no church and no cemitery. As I always say I want it to be. Not a burial, not a cerimony. My atoms beeing giving back to nature, as I want it to be. On some beautiful and green field or so, where my organic material can be used to generate life, even if it’s in shape of green. Me giving back all I consumed while alive.

It was beatiful. And there was a campfire where it was supposed to be the place I was buried. My family and a bunch of friends were there, almost all of them crying. And, surprisingly, I was walking around, seeing all those stuff, but not being sight, although I could not specify if I was a ghost, a spirit, or just an observer conscience, or anything like that. All I knew is that I was dead. And that was my funeral.

These kind of stuff makes me think, makes me realize how frail life can be. And even with this thought, I was never afraid of this – death, I meant. For the beggining, I have no religion to comfort my heart and soul. I laugh with horror movies and I have defied God a few times already. I dare to walk alone over midnight dark streets of this city. I always did thousands of stuff people use to avoid with fear of death or maybe pain. So I can say that, with exception of my fobia for deep-watery places, which is pretty much unexplainable, I was never one of them.

I was always afraid to lose people to death, this is true. I’m guessing it is because I have already lost so much of them, and that the perspective of not seeing someone ever again sounds so ridiculous for me… But I never, ever, had this fear for dying.

But now it comes to me, how many things I still want to do before I go wherever I am supposed to be after dying. There are so many dreams to fulfill and wishes to realize… So, for the first time in my life, I’m having second thoughts about how though I can be when it comes on dying. And this is the first time in my whole twenty-one-years-life that I say this: I don’t want to die.

And the thing is, I know I will. Die, I mean. At some point of today and, I don’t know, the year of 2100. I’m not guessing my death date, but I am guessing that there are too little chances, at least on the present perspective, I’ll live way much more than a hundred and twenty years. Honestly, I’m happy if I live enough to see all my kids settled on their own lives.

And now I confess: I’m afraid. Not the kind of fear that restrains your actions – if there is something I’ve learned is how to supress my fear whenever it is holding me back. I am afraid of dying. I am afraid of death. Or better yet: I’m afraid of not living. But as always, I’m containing this fear. I’ve learned to trust on myself and also my instincts. I was always my own fortress and I was always my best friend – and also my bigger enemy. But I’m in peace with myself now for a long while, and I trust my guts. And they are telling me I will be okay.

So yes, I’m afraid. But things are going to be all right. Everything is going to be just… fine. As usual =)”