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“You’re free in death…” that’s what I came in conclusion to. I would never be free unless I gave this all up. People are frightened by death, they can’t see that it’s actually the ultimate gift. There’s nothing to be afraid of, in death we are at peace. Anything that hurts you doesn’t matter anymore, because you ceased to exist, you left for a void.

The void is what is terrifying humans, they don’t want to be forgotten or enter a phase of the unknown. They build themselves lives that they think so important, dying always comes as a shock. They don’t see death as a gift, but as a contradiction to living; because there’s nothing better than to live, or at least that’s in what the generality believes.

Then you have us, the misfits, often mistaken for depressive. We just see life as what we get or not from it, and we can contemplate death without being afraid of it. We can push our body limits to the extreme point where either death gives us a kiss, either we don’t get to come back from its embrace; but when we do, the adrenaline makes living what it is. We’re not as blind then, we start to see things raw.

I understood at a very young age the concept of death, when I became aware of the possibility of my own. After a series of probabilities, I concluded I would reach that critical time by the age of 30… which I would celebrate in five years from now, if I get to survive. I am not afraid of oblivion, I don’t believe in a life after death, but the idea of nothingness has an appeal on me, a sense of just and right.

If you want to know what I’m dying from, it’s not cancer or some type of illness, a mutation defection, or anything like it. On my radio scans, I look just fine. On my blood test results I’m holding on, barely for some, but I still pass… medically speaking, I am just fine, yet my body is failing me. They can’t explain it, but my biological clock shows as if every day I age about half a year, which should have me long dead by 30. I am dying of old age – that never misses to surprise the people that learn about it.

I don’t look like much, I’m barely an adult and I still wear superhero shirts and built Lego sets, watching anime. It’s no matter what I look or feel like, I’m still dying, and no one can predict how much I have left, nor there is a cure for dying of old age. You just do. I’m fine though, besides that fatality hanging over my head since my childhood, I found ways to appreciate life and death. I remember making lists of their pros and cons, and oddly death offered the best pros.

You get tired of struggling; I watched The Fault in Our Stars, and although I do not share any of the disabilities the main characters have, I could still relate to them. I also used my dying wish, I prayed forever ago, to get to turn 30 one day. I don’t want to imagine what it would feel like to outgrow my twenties and officially feel old enough to call myself an adult, I want to live it. Of course, even if I get my wish granted, I will never have the typical life of a 30 years old person. I can’t have kids, I can’t go to work or drive, I can’t even carry groceries home… I try but every physical effort weakens me furthermore and adds to my biological clock.

I’m not scared of dying, but it is my life goal I suppose, to reach 30. Which means most days I am resting myself as much as I can, making the least efforts in that hope… & then there are days when I can’t do it anymore. When I push my body’s boundaries to its limits just to get a kiss from death : if it were to take me, then so be it. I was ready to die the day I figured the maths. I am not a child anymore, I am a misfit.