I was driving back from Ikea last night, and as everytime I am driving back from Ikea, I was thinking about things. Various serious things I never normally would think about. Last night’s topic of choice was death. And my realisation that I am not afraid of it. I don’t know what it is, and what really happens, obviously, but I don’t believe anything happens. It is just the end. And the end of me isn’t something I fear, because it is not something that important. Everyday, I question life and its point. Everything I do, I question all the time. Nothing means anything once put in perspective, and if you keep in mind that there is an end. J finds that now we have Mini, he feels deathless. I, on the other end feel more like death is getting nearer. I am continuing my lineage, by starting a new line, Mini’s line. But this also means mine is getting to an end. Not now, I hope, but some day. And it makes me happy to know that when this day comes, I won’t be afraid. Because there will be nothing. And how could I be afraid of nothing?
The other news is that we found a sofa. A three-seater no less, so when Death comes over to share some salmon mousse, she can sit on the sofa with us.