It was a very productive Veterans Day for me— the first day in a while that I wasn’t lying on my back scrolling aimlessly through social media and dreadfully going through all of my classes . I put on my new t-shirt I got from Kohl’s that day, brushed my teeth and filled my water bottle for the last time. I settled in my pink-lit room emitting from my fairy lights. Toppled with three blankets, I watched a couple episodes of American Horror Story on my phone, wearing my new glasses I got after receiving my new prescription earlier in the day. 

I grew bored of the gore and cheesiness of Murder House, the first season of American Horror Story. I checked if all of my alarms were set for the following day and then shut off my phone for the night. I took off my glasses, rubbed my strained eyes and closed them, proceeding to pray before I turned to sleep on my stomach.

I finally settled with my blankets, making sure to cover both my shoulders to shelter from the cold wind coming through my window. Snuggling into my dented pillow, my mind began racing as it does so often.

I had the song “Les Fleurs” by Minnie Riperton stuck in my head, due to the fact that I’ve heard this song in every other Tik Tok I scrolled past that week. Now, this song has a long history with me. For years, I’ve said this will be the song I will die to. With this final step in life, I found a song like this to make my death less emotionally painful and more of a beautiful ending to my life.

I picture in my head an open field of neatly trimmed grass and my body— laying there peacefully, draped with a beautiful, flowy white gown. Like a movie, the guitar strums in the opening with the feeling of a gentle breeze flowing through my hair and the camera panning from a close up of my still face, showing the emptiness of the fields when rising above my body, now making me look like a speck of dust in the middle of nothingness. 

It’s pure bliss with no man made images or people around me; it’s solely myself and nature, ending my meaningless narrative that few will read, deem to pin myself in one’s hair, or fly me by a string. 

My existential dreams will be made with that fantasy of mine. However, when I paint this picture that I find so cinematically beautiful, I have a horrific panic attack and weep till my body shuts down completely.

I found it incredibly hard to erase the image of my deceased body from my head that night. I would’ve done anything  to stop these thoughts during that quiet night, but truly I can’t escape the thought that one day I will be dead and forever gone from this world.  

I have death anxiety. It’s the simple phrase “the circle of life” that I can’t settle with.

It has become unbearable at this point. I lose hours of sleep because of it. I deprive myself of happiness because of it. It’s inescapable because I know I can’t stop it. 

I never thought I would make it to 18. Now I’m 8 days away from what I never thought I’d achieve in life. My sarcastic middle school self would joke right now: “You’re 18? More like closer to death, old woman! Haha!” 

My self now sits with a “really?” face, acting all tough, looking down at young Kara— then proceeds to break down like the hormonal teen I am, due to the fact young Kara is right about how death is closing in on me and can at any time. I’ll never know till the time comes.

I’m far from coming to terms with this anxiety, but in these past few weeks I’ve found myself sort of coping with this thought in the back of my head.

Earlier this quarantine, I told my mom of these existential feelings— lying face first on her bed, sobbing my sorrows away making her start to choke in tears, feeling as empty as Lilo from Lilo and Stitch in the scene where she lays mouthing to Elvis Presley, emotionless. She said I wasn’t alone and that she felt the same from time to time with these 40 years of life under her belt.

“Kara, it’s normal to think about death. It happens to all of us. You have to find ways to distract yourself throughout the day,” she told me.

I sniffed and nodded with my head low. She was right. I just had to start without any hesitation. Baby steps.

I started taking my days slower and permitting my self-awareness to take over. 

First thing when I wake up, I take a deep breath or two. Today’s a new day. I didn’t go straight to my phone when I first woke up, but instead let my eyes adjust to everything around me. I made my way to my living room and looked to my right and saw my golden retriever Cha Chi, sleeping peacefully with her head rested on the top of her paws. That’s a living creature I take care of every day of my life. I need to let her know I’m here for her. I hunched down to lay beside her and gave her a kiss on her forehead, hugging her and calling her by the many nicknames I have for her.

“Saucy! La la! Cha cha!” 

I smile and pet her forehead. 

I took the rest of my dogs out and sat outside to watch them. I took a seat on one of the plastic white chairs and petted my young and overly-excited golden retriever, Lexie, who leaned against my leg with her abnormally long tongue hanging out of her mouth. I looked around at the clouds in the baby blue sky and soaked in the warm sun, feeling the cold breeze hit against my legs and arms that were covered in goosebumps. I took out my phone and played “Les Fleurs,” singing along to my dogs who were running about in our big backyard. I watched our old tree in the back of the backyard sway with small twigs and leaves falling from the ends of it. The clouds started to move leisurely, melding together harmoniously. 

That tree is not forever, neither is the sky. My dogs aren’t forever, neither are their toys. I took in the environment around me and treated it like a sight I may never have the chance to see again. 

Because in the end, I’m not forever. I can’t miss out on what’s before me at this very moment.

These little things that I focus on throughout the day distract me from this anxiety. Becoming self-aware of all that’s around me began to show… this is how the world goes. I have to take it all in and be appreciative of this life I’ve been gifted with. 

I’m dearly grateful that even with my mental troubles and “real life” occurrences, there’s still a drive for me to continue breathing and not worry too much about what happens at the end of my journey. This drive makes me want to appreciate and nurture the small moments and things in my life, and more importantly, not wanting to miss them. 

With my long life ahead of me, I’ve only experienced a fraction of all that life offers. That’s what I should look forward to instead of that big grass field. And as I continue to grow, the little things are pathed to ease this thought in the back of my mind and tell me, “It’s okay. Look at what’s around you and soak it in. You’re here for a long while.”

Many of our narratives are yet to have passed their first chapter. The small details in our narratives will continue for a long while, and we should all appreciate them for taking us along this journey.