In the seventh grade, when we were required to choose a talent class I chose drama. In that class I was one of the few actually interested in learning what our drama teacher had to teach. One of the students who was there simply because he had learned of the simplicity of the class and the freedom we were allowed and wanted a "free period" was Michael Clarke. He was loud, abrasive and often ludicrous. He would often interrupt the class with a joke or inappropriate yet laughter causing remark. More often then not it he himself who was laughing at something said to him by one of his "free period" friends.

Unfortunately one day, upon arriving home from school, Michael Clarke suffered a seizure and his heart was unable to withstand the pressure of it all. He passed away that night at an age of 12 or 13.

The next day I learned that a Michael had passed away. It wasn't until last period, Drama class, that I learned which Michael it had been. His empty seat struck me hard and it was then that I thought about death and afterlife. Though his death was the second I experienced in my life, his was the first that I actually thought about. New thoughts now flooded my brain as my tears had flooded my face.

I became afraid as death became real and I realized that my own death was inevitable and unpredictable.

What if I was to die on my way home? What would happen? Would I watch the world from a fluffy cloud in the sky invisible to all if I was allowed into a such a place? And if not would I slave away in a world of fire and brimstone? Or maybe would I continue to live my "life" unaware that I was no longer flesh and bones but an ethereal ghost, or would I be aware and haunt those I had left behind? Would I be reborn into a new person to live a new life or reborn into a cat , wither way with no memory of ever being Stephanie? Or, in my opinion the worst of all, would I simply cease to exist?

The thought of no longer existing horrified me and it only added in my tears. Out of all my fears, some trivial, some justified and some nonsense, the thought of dying and becoming nothing was the most petrifying of all. I couldn't stand it. I still cant and when the thought of death and my non existence enters my mind I can feel every molecule of my being shiver and cry to my brain to remove the horrible images: my empty seat in drama, the absence of my laughter around my friends, and the emptiness of the space that I am occupying right now and might not tomorrow.

And what if I were to die today? What did almost 17 years of life accomplish? What was the purpose of my life? To die at such a young age as Michael did?

Then came another fear, a year and some months later. On the day of my graduation, Mr. and Mrs. Clarke made a speech and at that moment I realized that I had forgotten all about the boy who had such a wonderful laugh. Would I be forgotten as well as time went on? And would my trip into oblivion be made final as I left the memories of my friends?

Though I smiled brightly at the end of the day, my heart was again torn and I cried on the inside quite hard.

Thinking back to that day I know that there are few other days that I cried that hard both for the loss of Michael Clarke and the realization that death awaits me.

I try my best to remove the thoughts of nonexistence whenever they come as fast as I can, but sometimes I am forced to think about them and there is nothing else I fear more, even though my first response to "What are you afraid of?" is often spiders and heights.