Some people say they’re not afraid of dying. But surely* that statement is only applicable to certain situations, like the ideal of passing peacefully in one’s sleep, or, perhaps less ideally, under heavy sedation. Who, for example, wouldn’t be terrified at the thought of being on a plane that’s going to crash, where the probability of survival is close to zero and one has time to work out that probability and mull over the implications? Or being served as the main course at a komodo dragon’s Thanksgiving dinner? Or meeting one’s end in a manner that becomes the subject of a true crime podcast?
I don’t find the prospect of death itself all that scary. But dying? That’s scary as hell.
* Yes yes, don't call you Shirley.
* Yes yes, don't call you Shirley.
I agree.
ReplyDeleteYes, I agree too. Even Joan of Arc, possessing faith in the extreme, must have had a dreadful time of it.
ReplyDeleteI disagree. It's being the komodo dragon's dinner before I die that is the scary bit. The plane's plummet and impact on the ground or sea is the scary bit.
ReplyDeleteThe dying brings nothing but relief. Not that I'm ready yet.
That's exactly what I was trying to say. Obviously not very well.
DeleteOh good, then we agree.
DeleteOr the idea of what should be a quick death made painfully long by medical intervention.
ReplyDelete