Philosophy of Death: Why I’m Not Scared, But I Don’t Want to Go

You know what’s stupidly beautiful? Life. You know what’s stupidly stupid? That it ends. Lately, I’ve been dwelling on the philosophy of death, sparked by a headline I stumbled upon while scrolling: “Scientists Say Death After Cardiac Arrest Might Not Be Final.” Say what now?

Basically, there’s a growing body of research suggesting that if your heart stops, you might technically be dead, but not really, because they might be able to switch you back on. Like a reboot. Apparently, we’re getting closer to the point where death might become… optional? And I love that idea. Because honestly, as much as I sometimes feel meh about the messes of life – the stress, the noise, the “oh god, I ate too much cheese again” regret – I really don’t want to die. I just want the option to stay and observe this absurd, tragicomic human play for as long as possible.

Immortality: A Paradox of Modern Life

But here’s the paradox: I don’t want to die, but I also lack the will to do squats. Or drink smoothies that look like someone blended a forest. Isn’t that the height of idiocy? Immortality fantasies with zero cardio commitment. I know I should stay fit – but instead, I find myself bargaining with science to please, just make immortality happen before my knees give out. And while I’m dreaming, maybe a gentle vampire could swing by and offer a forever plan – minus the blood, please. I gag at the smell of raw meat. (Do vampires even have taste buds? And if they do, how do they not vomit drinking blood? Questions that haunt me more than death itself.)

The Questions That Haunt Me

Speaking of being haunted – there was another scroll, right after the death-resurrection article. It spoke of people who “discovered something” and accidentally shared it with the world. Next thing you know, they’re found dead under mysterious circumstances. Coincidence? Sure. But you and I both know about that gut feeling. That something out there, call it what you will – evil, devil, systemic manipulation, whatever your belief system allows – it exists. And it doesn’t like it when people get too close to uncomfortable truths. I mean, why else can’t we regrow teeth? Lizards can regrow tails. Axolotls can regrow limbs. But us? One wrong bite of popcorn and it’s a crown, a root canal, a bill that costs more than rent. Convenient for someone’s profit, no?

Cures, Conspiracy, and a Farmer in Peru

Same with cancer. Cures exist – herbs, compounds, suppressed research. But we keep cycling in systems that favor treatment over healing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not anti-doctor. I just find it curious how often we’re told, “there’s no cure,” and then some random farmer in Peru drinks a plant tea and lives to 112. But this isn’t about medicine. It’s about life. And death.

What Happens When the Lights Go Out?

To me, the philosophy of death is all about that deep sleep we don’t remember. A click – lights out – no dreams. Not scary, just blank. And maybe, just maybe, if there is something after, it’s not the fluffy clouds and golden gates. Maybe it’s a place where love is not the kind we obsess over here – not needy, not jealous, not packaged with fear. Maybe it’s a pure frequency, one we haven’t evolved enough to fully sense. Or maybe… it’s just off. Like a lamp that’s been unplugged.

The Simple, Stupidly Beautiful Truth

Still, here I am, writing this about the philosophy of death not because I fear it, but because I really like being alive. The smell of rain. The curve of someone’s smile. Music that hits you in the ribs. The way dogs sigh when they lie down. That’s enough. That’s magic. That’s why I want the choice to stay. So until science figures out this whole resurrection or immortality thing, I’ll try – imperfectly – to stretch, to breathe, to eat the occasional vegetable. Maybe even go for a walk. Just in case it buys me more time. Or, you know, if you’re a nice, non-creepy vampire reading this – DM me.