My greatest fear isn’t
d
r
o
w
n
i
n
g,
floating into the depths of the sea, hopelessness embracing you…
or
fire, as those flickering flames surround you
or
h
e
i
g
h
t
s—
falling in a downwards plummet, the ground rushing up to meet you
or
spiders
&
bugs, those
t
h
o
u
s
a
n
d
s
of legs scuttling around you (although they scare me quite a bit)
It isn’t even death
…
it happens to everybody at some point—the Grim Reaper will come knocking,
either as you float into the depths of the sea, the water choking you to death,
or as flames surround you, the smoke reaching into your body and squeezing your lungs,
or as with a trip and a yelp, you fall over the edge of something, the ground rushing up to take your life,
…or bugs. Well, how can bugs even kill you? Through fear, maybe…
No, my greatest fear isn’t death.
It’s being forgotten.
As everything I do,
becomes “something” that “someone” did
as my life slowly becomes forgettable, just someone’s ancestor.
Just someone unimportant. Who didn’t break a world record. Or invent the next greatest thing. Or create time travel.
Just “someone” who knew things, and loved things, and hated things, and got scolded by her parents, and had annoying siblings, and who begged for a phone…
Just “someone” who liked to swim, and play piano, and Gu Zheng, and liked writing and reading stories, and worried about pimples and acne…
One day, I will be forgotten, just someone who didn’t do anything.
A forgotten great-great-great-great grandma.
A forgotten ancestor.
One day, everything I did, every medal and prize I earned, every pet I’ve owned, everything I touched…
Those will be forgotten too, until there’s nothing left but a rotting corpse, and a “someone.”
Just someone who didn’t really matter.
d
r
o
w
n
i
n
g,
floating into the depths of the sea, hopelessness embracing you…
or
fire, as those flickering flames surround you
or
h
e
i
g
h
t
s—
falling in a downwards plummet, the ground rushing up to meet you
or
spiders
&
bugs, those
t
h
o
u
s
a
n
d
s
of legs scuttling around you (although they scare me quite a bit)
It isn’t even death
…
it happens to everybody at some point—the Grim Reaper will come knocking,
either as you float into the depths of the sea, the water choking you to death,
or as flames surround you, the smoke reaching into your body and squeezing your lungs,
or as with a trip and a yelp, you fall over the edge of something, the ground rushing up to take your life,
…or bugs. Well, how can bugs even kill you? Through fear, maybe…
No, my greatest fear isn’t death.
It’s being forgotten.
As everything I do,
becomes “something” that “someone” did
as my life slowly becomes forgettable, just someone’s ancestor.
Just someone unimportant. Who didn’t break a world record. Or invent the next greatest thing. Or create time travel.
Just “someone” who knew things, and loved things, and hated things, and got scolded by her parents, and had annoying siblings, and who begged for a phone…
Just “someone” who liked to swim, and play piano, and Gu Zheng, and liked writing and reading stories, and worried about pimples and acne…
One day, I will be forgotten, just someone who didn’t do anything.
A forgotten great-great-great-great grandma.
A forgotten ancestor.
One day, everything I did, every medal and prize I earned, every pet I’ve owned, everything I touched…
Those will be forgotten too, until there’s nothing left but a rotting corpse, and a “someone.”
Just someone who didn’t really matter.