I have a fear of dying. I guess all people fear dying to some extent, but when I think about dying, my chest constricts and my breathing is strained; I feel nauseous and fight the reaction to cry. I don’t know why I have this fear. This could possibly extend from my fear of missing out, that if I die, I will miss out on my own life, completing my own goals, standing triumphant over my achievements, watching my children grow, spending my life laughing with my most loved. Being privy to my bosses email, I just read a blog one of her friends had posted, a 28 year old man who has just been diagnosed terminally ill. As much as the blogs broke my heart I could not stop reading them. 28 years, that will
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