Fragile.

Today, my mom gave CPR to a man at her work when he suddenly collapsed while his wife received chemo.
He wasn't even the sick one.
He died.
That got me thinking about the fragility of life and how quickly it's over.

I think about how I'll die a lot, and especially when I run.
As morbid as it sounds, I think about who'll miss me and really worry about that.
But I'm not afraid to die.
I'm mostly afraid to not live enough.

I'm afraid to not say enough.
Maybe to that person that I know has a shitty family life or to the person I get caught next to in the hallway.
I'm afraid to let fear control me.
Like I'll choose the safe option and I'll never tell people how I really feel about them.

I'm really afraid no one will ever fall in love with me, and I'll die alone surrounded by cats and dogs and goldfish.

So I do have a lot I feel I need to happen before I die, but dying just seems so easy.

Like forfeiting or something when you know you're going to lose.

I know this blog makes no sense, but anxiety has kicked in again, and all I think about is time and not having enough and not knowing what to do with it.