One of my fears is that the way I die will be embarrassing.
I worry that my ghost will roam this earthly plane, beset with shame at how she shuffled off her mortal coil.
The voices in my head, all of them dead in this scenario, but restless, will lament to one another: “That’s how you went? Ugh. Look where you’re going next lifetime, jeez.”
I’m still alive, but my fear was nearly realized last summer in Geneva, NY.
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