Today on the LRT to work, I had a scary realization: I don’t care if I die the next second.
I believe this is the first time I ever had such a thought.I don’t feel depressed now, not at all. I think I’m more open to the idea of death than feeling that it is not worth living.
This sort of idea is terrible because it defeats the motivational: Live every day like it is your last.
If it were my last day, I would rather do nothing. Maybe stare into the sky and wonder which second is my last.