The title says it all. This is a pretty depressing thread, ... so, ... you know, ... take care when reading.

It comes and goes, but right now it's in the come stage. (giggety) It's such an immensely strong and unrelenting feeling of dread; a loud ticking clock. Just to confirm: I'm obsessed with my own eventual death. I'm sure this all fits nice and snug with severe depression, but I do have OCD, and it's also pretty bad, so I'm gonna just go ahead and guess that I am obsessing over death, and ruminating/seeking reassurance, are my compulsions. I've always had fear or indifference to death (I guess we all are, in some way) and have gone through patches of real fear and depression over it.

This fear and depression about it, really started to hit me, when people in my family started dropping like flies - cancer came up a lot. My dad lost a few friends, also to do with cancer for some. I became so aware of my mortality, and no matter where I went, it was there. Just when I got past it, or shoved it under the table, someone else died, or someone else fell ill. We've recently lost my aunt, an incredible, strong, Scottish woman, of whom I dubbed my heroine, because she was so strong and I admire her for it; she held on until the very end, and that is how I will remember her: a fighter. Death has never been something I've dealt with, or properly. I hate to say this so often, but it's relevant: my ex was suicidal, and she made a good few attempts; I'm sure that didn't help. When I was a kid, my grandparents died, and I didn't know, then my mother just told me mid-conversation, not realising I didn't know - I was just angry, confused, and I so cried - strange as they were, I loved them. I never even got to go to their funeral. When I was younger still, my mother's boyfriend lost his mother, and that event was essentially handled by getting me out of the way, and focusing on Easter. It's funny, I should like Easter, but somewhere in mind, Easter feels like death, not the celebration of life. So I never went to the funeral, even though I had met the woman and actually quite liked her. I used to be pretty suicidal, even once had a flimsy, drunken attempt, and now that those days, including self-harm and general self-destructiveness are gone, I now feel the opposite: instead of wanting to die, I want to live. I have such a strong desire to live forever, experience everything, learn everything, meet everyone - just want to live.

Death scares me. I could be happily doing something, then it hits me, ... the sense of dread, the sense of unimportance of what I'm doing, the hours left on my clock; it all smacks me right on the face, and it can take days to shift that feeling, perhaps even longer. It's so hard to be in the moment, or to enjoy anything, when you're constantly faced with the pointlessness of everything; it's terrifying and lonely. Don't even get me started on the fearing of being alone, and dying alone.