I never remember being carefree as a child. My first memories were when I was 3-4 and I would wake up my parents because of my dream realization. I was trying to explain to them that everyone was dying. "Mommy, daddy! Everyone is dying. I'm dying you're dying, Mary's dying. Everyone's acting like it's all ok but it isn't!" is what was I was trying to say, but my dad would get out of bed and walk me up and down the street in my pj's outside the house until I calmed down, and then he'd send me back to bed. The next night it would happen again . I remember taking a knife from the kitchen and placing it at the point of where my heart was and thinking how easy it would be to die, just one shove in would be all it took. I took all the knives and hid them up above the refrigerator because I was afraid I'd kill myself while I was sleepwalking. My parents got tired of worrying about my wandering and would lock me in my room at night.
Time seemed to go really fast and death seemed to be running at me fast like a runaway freight train.
This singular problem of mortality has been the one thought that has been in my head as the underlying mantra my whole life.
I thought I'd found the answer and I was wrong. Right now the panicky feeling is gone, but I'm sure it will return again.