Reblogged from Not Tomatoes:
Luna looked through the trees at the moon and thought about death. Death, she decided, was the unbroken space of silence. Where words disintegrated before they could form sound in the black expanse of no-time. Would it feel, cold, she wondered, as she shivered her body under the night sky, or would there be no feeling?
When she was a young child, she would lie in bed and think about death before she slept. She couldn’t help it. Her mind would pull her into that place of fear, and the thought of nonexistence would race her heart into panic until she pushed the terror back into the darkness. Now she found the idea of infinity equally terrifying. How exhausting, to be endlessly cycling through lifetimes, or to be forever hovering in the void of space.
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