[Overcast]

Death.

At the age of four I was vaguely aware of death, but like most kids was unaware that it might affect me. At five I was, for any odd reason or another, able to reason out that in fact it did. For the next five years I couldn't get a proper night of sleep without quietly sobbing myself insane about the possibility of death grabbing me in the night. The terrible cold of nothingness and unknown after death regarding me fondly and keeping me sick with paranoia.

At age ten I began desperate binges of imagination to distract myself from it, keeping my brain as busy as I could in order to escape the troubles. From time to time that failed and I would be crying myself insane once again.

At age thirteen I began self-actualizing a personal dream that some day science was going to save me from this terrifying experience and aid me in becoming immortal, and all I had to do was live long enough. The fear of death wasn't gone, just redirected to an obsession with immortality.

I began to get reasonable sleep.

I still have a personal desire for immortality to this day. I won't stop hoping until I hit the century mark, and then the world might well start being afraid because I'm unsure what my mind will do to help me get over the fear.