i think about death a lot

i do.
its strange. but i do.
there is something so fascinating about it.
i wonder a lot about what is in store for me in life.
what is out there. what is .
beyond.
sometimes my life feels like some sort of fantasy or dream.
ill step back.
and take almost a birds eye view of my own life.
of what i am doing.
what i am saying.
who i am with
its so strange.
i think about heaven.
about god
about space
i read these books and play with paint.
move colors around.
but thats besides the point. the point i am trying to make is.
i always think about death
i think
what if i died
right now.
is it odd to think........ what a relief.
i am just so curious to see what is beyond.
and just now. right this second. as i am typing this. the thought popped in my head.
what if there is nothing else.
what if i really do just rot.
and its black and cold and dark and muddy
god how horrible.
nope dont believe that.
when i think about dying. i picture myself on a cloud
looking down
at people
at everyone at once
with my fingers over the edge hiding behind a cloud
yeah there for sure is something else out there.
i mean how else can you accredit all this beauty in our universe from the astronomically big to the microscopically small.
i just want to know. i want to see it. i want to experience it.
i am also lazy
and i want to dream .
the other day i was sleeping in my bed and had the most incredible dreams.
i thought to myself.
what if i just dreamt all day.
i could lay here and close my eyes and just go.
if had the most incredible dreams and i think what if i dreamt for the rest of my life.
what if i just slept.
and then i thought. well.
wouldnt that be almost the same as being dead?
hibernating if you will.
i dont want to do anything
i want to do nothing
always
but .
thats impossible.
so instead i think. well
lets make the most of it. and stay positive.
lets make great things and notice the little beauties everywhere.
lets experience everything.
lets try anything.
lets get lost.
friends.
people.
other humans.
i sit on the freeway and imagine everyone as sheep or gazelle or wildebeest.
migrating.
moving.
mooing.
honking
barking and biting.
only the strong survive.
so many ways to look at literally anything.
the world is enormous and tiny at the same time. i am lightyears away.
so far so close all at the same time.
i am a sponge.
soaking life and air up.
inhaling it all.
devouring it.
text and letters and colors and shapes and sounds black and white and hues and stars and space and touch and people and taste and cold and new and old and wet and crisp and red and orange and blue and green and rain and wind and ocean and ink and oil and gas and feathers and fish and pots and cameras and lenses and hearts and cards and fires and freezers and magazines and paper and hammers and lighters and bongs and strings and jeans and canvas and paint and keys and buttons.
how nice it would be to dream.
i dont care what anyone thinks.
nobody
not one person.
i care what everyone thinks
i care about what every single person on earth thinks.
i love everything
love everything
i love making things
and breaking things
and well everything
i love experience
i am in love with experience
i am addicted to experience
nerve synapses
senses
aesthetics
what makes something pleasing to someone and not the other
why do those colors go together
music to my ears
birds chirping
the fan whirling all night long.
humming and humming me to sleep.
i think this is a dream because.
well because it is too good
but
why
why do i think that
what is too good. why cant it just be normal. is it so bad that i like everything
everything
literally
i could die tonight
i could live forever
i think i would be just as happy doing either
and well isnt that the point
good vibrations
just buzzing and buzzing out of me
i just want to vomit positivity everywhere
i want to do nothing
i want to sleep forever
i am always tired.
clothes and hats and shoes and hair and fat and skin and bone and blood and scarves and socks
cells and molecules and diseases
organs
i am fascinated by death
by skulls
skeletons
the grotesque
gore
blood
fungus
eyes and ears and wax and saliva
tears and salt
dont get me wrong i am the happiest person i know
wisdom comes with age
and i am as stupid as they come
to know me is simple.
but i think very few people if anyone actually know me.
i dont know how to be honest because i dont know what is real
am i being honest now
yes.
honest as in these are my real thoughts unedited
stream of consciousness
i
u
me
he
she
we
eye
you
iou
nothing
. thats it.