Are We Afraid Of Death, Or Afraid Of An Unlived life

A man lies in a hospital bed, aware that he could die at any moment. He is terribly afraid — not of death itself, but of what it is about to take from him. In those final seconds, memories rush in: moments delayed, words unsaid, days postponed for a future that never arrived. His heart rate spikes as regret overwhelms him — and before he can make peace with it, he is gone. From this, the question arises, “Are we afraid of death, or afraid of an unlived life?” In past, I found death absurd. Always thinking “Why do we live, when one day we have to die?”, and usually avoiding the question, therefore, I never found an answer. But lately this question has been tormenting me thoroughly.

Humans often pass the question about death; we all seem to never think about death, not knowing it can come at any moment. We often distract ourselves by finding a job, marrying someone we love, or following a particular religion. By doing these activities, we stay distracted and never think about life and death. *What is death?* Is it dark? A never-ending loop? What’s it like? We can know this answer by just doing the act of dying, but we can never come back from death; that’s what we all seem to fear. It seems to me we only think about death when it is drawing closer and closer. And we don’t fear death itself; we fear something else, wearing death as a mask. We fear that we may lose our lives, which feels unfinished.

Sometimes we delay doing somethings e.g. a message that can fix things, a thought of writing a book, etc. And at some point in time arrives one, it can no longer be possible, that is what we call regret. Regret isn’t loud; it builds in gradually with time. Regret does not visit us when we make the choice, but when we realise we can no longer change it. And death reveals regret, death makes us tormented with regret, as it approaches us slowly. These regrets, missed chances, and some words that were never spoken make our lives feel unfinished. But what makes death even more terrifying is that *not living life as being yourself*. Hiding behind a mask, never making a real connection with any human being, can make death even more terrifying than before.

*Yozo Oba* from *No longer human* embodies this aspect of life thoroughly. From childhood, he wore a mask of a clown, getting quick laughs, because he thought that was the way he could dissolve with society. He never truly felt a human connection; his inability to feel human connection made his life even worse. The tragedy is that he never chose himself, he despised his own soul, he lets life happen, not taking any decisions of his own. He often used to get drunk and roam to escape from life itself. *Yozo’s* fear is not death, but exposure — the terror that living honestly would require him to exist without disguise. *Yozo’s* life suggests that what destroys us is not the certainty of death, but the prolonged avoidance of living as ourselves.

But why does all this happen? Why don’t we choose to live our lives fully? The thing is, it’s not a moral failure-it’s human. Living honestly often requires risk. Risk threatens many things at once, including our identity and sense of belonging. Routine often protects us from this. If a guy’s routine is waking up, going to work, coming back, then scrolling, and then sleeping, that is a perfect example of an unlived life, but since it’s his everyday routine, he will never question it, and this leads to a *life never lived fully*. We make our lives feel scripted. Society, parents, culture hands us these scripts, e.g. they often say “Be practical”, “This is how adulthood looks like”, etc. And we gratefully accept these scripts, because they feel safer, they tell us how to act, when to act, what is success and so on. When life follows a script, there’s a risk in failing within it, but never risk failing yourself. By following the script, we can often comfort ourselves, but living honestly and failing threatens our identity. And when death arrives, we feel that we still have to live; death brings clarity, but then it’s too late to resolve everything.

Therefore, death isn’t a punishment; it’s a deadline. A mirror that asks, “ Did you live, or did you survive?” Death forces us to reflect on our past and our regret. Deciding to stick to routine, following the script, is what makes a life feel unfinished, and therefore, we fear death terribly.