Is the fear of death merely a vestigial survival instinct? I don't want to die, I enjoy existence. I enjoy feeling, observing, thinking, being. It's not that oblivion is a terrible fate, considering you don't recognize your state (or lack thereof). It's just that the alternative, existing, can be so nice. I suppose I might feel different if I were subjected to a life of more suffering. I guess I should just be glad to have ever existed. Is that a byproduct of being a lifeform, is this feeling just my complex brain attempting to explain away an ingrained survival mechanism, or is my love for existing true? Or maybe my existence is merely an illusion, and I am a very confused piece of the universe indeed. Oh well, I guess by the time I will know, I will be incapable of knowing. There is a certain humor in that, I suppose.