Where do you go to my lovely?

I’m going to start this with a cliché. Ok. Are you ready? Here we go…
Life is such a joke. Ok. I have said it. I feel better now.
I am fucking scared of death. I know, its absurd. It’s an irrational fear but I can’t help it. I can’t. It’s not that I am scared of dying. No. I am scared of being left alone. I don’t want to be abandoned. A fear of abandonment? Maybe. I don’t know for sure. But I am scared.
Today I attended the first funeral of my life and I know it is the first of many. I hated it. I wore a black dress and under it black panties. I wore a heavy burden. The burden of being alive.
We are here for a fraction of a second and then we’re gone. Poof! Like we never existed. Please don’t get me wrong. I am not going through existential angst. I already passed through that phase a while ago… with Camus.
This is the reality of reality. Coming to terms with what it is to be alive. What? Are we supposed to distract ourselves from the obvious? Are we supposed to have the times of our lives until the grim reaper is ready for us?
I say… go crazy. I say let’s have the time of our lives (no pun intended), I say let’s go to hell laughing.
I say all this… but what I really want to say is please don’t leave me alone.
Please don’t leave me alone.
I don’t want to be left alone.
Please.