A time in my life when I wasn’t afraid to die

There was, in fact, a time in my life when I wasn’t afraid to die. That was 2011–2012 because I would come from meeetings at Urdaneta. I’m riding a tricycle. I’m at the back so I could see the road below me as the vehicle ran fast. I would imagine jumping off from the tricycle—perhaps I even imagined being ran over by a truck or something. And I was surprised that I actually didn’t care. I was not afraid at all. I can feel it. It was visceral. And I know it was different back then, because, now, I get very afraid of the thought. I no longer want to die, and I think most ways of dying are painful.