The Question:

Have you had thoughts of dying in the last two weeks?

I suppose I have, yet not in the way you want me to say. I know that death exists,
my mortality is often on my mind, or if stumbling through this life has truly
been worth much. I wonder what one sees when they finally give that last exhale. 
Is it a place among the stars, Heaven, Hell, Summerland, or simply 
nothing?

I wonder if I would know I had been buried. If I could feel the coolness six feet
beneath the ground. Know that my body would soon be nothing but bones. 
Certainly, I would opt for the stars as if I could. After all, returning to the very
thing that created my existence would be befitting, comforting.

Everything and everyone dies at some point. Nothing is eternally sustainable.
I am aware that the planet I live on is dying too. That soon it won’t matter if I 
want to live or not. Maybe if I died earlier than anyone expected, it would 
make no real difference, no true impact. After all, there are billions of people
also trying to make a way in this world.

You see, thoughts of death or dying have been rooted in my brain for longer
than I would like. Often only in passing, though sometimes, overwhelming.
As if the stars are constantly whispering in my ear, begging me to come home.
So, yes, I have had thoughts of dying in the last two weeks.
But my question to you is, how have you not?