This inquiry begins where thought ends—death. The worst of all possible things, although sometimes the end result of the worst of all possible things, like torture, or a life of rape, any sort of terrible existence. One doesn’t have to have any facts, or know any history to fear death and come to profound insights about it. I remember being very young, probably 9 or 10, and the throught of death would creep into my mind in the middle of the night as I lay patiently in my bed waiting for sleep to overtake me. It would keep me up, my entire body would become taught with fear. I’d have to get up and search for something to distract me, the thing that worked best was the poster from 5th grade graduation. Okay so now I realize I must have been older, probably 11 or 12, and in middle school rather than elementary. On the toilet under fluorescent lights I would examine all the faces and try to recall things about my classmates. With that rectangular sheet of laminated photo paper I could distract myself from death, and fill my head with idle thoughts. Upon leaving the bathroom I would concentrate to keep those thoughts cycling through my head, and fear would again well up in my frame when I could feel the thoughts coming back. If these thoughts were a color, they would be black, and they would spread across my mind like viscous octopus ink, leaving everything grim and murky. One day my life is going to end, and its going to end in a way that is incomprehensible. Incomprehensible because its not like flipping a switch, because there is no darkness to comprehend. Its death, I don’t fucking know what its like, its unfathaomable, unthinkable, the worst of all possible things. It taints life, muddies the rich elixer that we drink in as human beings. Time time is bad too, little kid. I want to start over. Goodnight.