Saturn_
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
- Apr 22, 2024
- 211
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The way I want to go out is by taking SN -- in a perfect world, just N -- and then getting into bed, underneath a nice blanket. I'll die cuddled up next to all my stuffed animals in my one and only happy place, just in one final goodnight to life. I'll take my time getting nice and cozy and running my fingers through my hair, just like my mom used to do when I was a child.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀And I'll fall asleep, one last time, to a lullaby, just like I would back then. I have no confidence in myself as a singer, so I'd probably just listen to one of my favorite songs that'd perfectly fit the mood. For as long as I can remember I've been into Vocaloid music, and I might listen to a song like this as I die. It's by Kikuo, who is fairly well known among Vocaloid fans, but this is one of his lesser known works. The lyrics describe a person being taken away from this world by a kind, gentle personification of death. The troublesome world fades from around them as they drift off into paradise, into a dream. I hope that when I die, death can grace me as warmly, as delicately. I used to have extremely high SI in my early teens, and I was hugely afraid of death. I think this song really helped to mitigate that fear.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀And I'll go to sleep one final time either in some really comfortable pajamas or this all-white dress with a beautiful floral eyelet pattern that I've always passingly thought of as a fitting death dress. This is because white commonly represents purity, which I hope to embody when I'm dead. I'll be completing a metamorphosis from concept, to actuality, back into concept. I'll regain the qualities that gave me purity, as a possibility. I'll return to innocence in that my unconscious body won't help but feel satisfaction with the way it is. It will have no extraneous desire to be any more than it is. It will ask nothing of anyone or anything, and regardless of afterlife, I can find some kind of contentment in that way, by uncreating the desires and the life that make me irreparable and impure. I'll be washed away of all of my history, and all that'll remain is a spirit and body cleansed of one another's company -- clean and white like star stuff. Maybe the atoms that made up my body will become food for the flowers, too.
And now I ask: How would you want to die, or how will you? What do you think the atmosphere and your physical environment ought to be like when you die?
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀And I'll fall asleep, one last time, to a lullaby, just like I would back then. I have no confidence in myself as a singer, so I'd probably just listen to one of my favorite songs that'd perfectly fit the mood. For as long as I can remember I've been into Vocaloid music, and I might listen to a song like this as I die. It's by Kikuo, who is fairly well known among Vocaloid fans, but this is one of his lesser known works. The lyrics describe a person being taken away from this world by a kind, gentle personification of death. The troublesome world fades from around them as they drift off into paradise, into a dream. I hope that when I die, death can grace me as warmly, as delicately. I used to have extremely high SI in my early teens, and I was hugely afraid of death. I think this song really helped to mitigate that fear.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀And I'll go to sleep one final time either in some really comfortable pajamas or this all-white dress with a beautiful floral eyelet pattern that I've always passingly thought of as a fitting death dress. This is because white commonly represents purity, which I hope to embody when I'm dead. I'll be completing a metamorphosis from concept, to actuality, back into concept. I'll regain the qualities that gave me purity, as a possibility. I'll return to innocence in that my unconscious body won't help but feel satisfaction with the way it is. It will have no extraneous desire to be any more than it is. It will ask nothing of anyone or anything, and regardless of afterlife, I can find some kind of contentment in that way, by uncreating the desires and the life that make me irreparable and impure. I'll be washed away of all of my history, and all that'll remain is a spirit and body cleansed of one another's company -- clean and white like star stuff. Maybe the atoms that made up my body will become food for the flowers, too.
And now I ask: How would you want to die, or how will you? What do you think the atmosphere and your physical environment ought to be like when you die?
