Hoping against an afterlife...

I usually avoid publishing philosophical or theological musings as I feel they (in general, not just mine) typically come across as self-indulgent and juvenile. I'll preface the following by pointing out these ideas are neither deep nor scholarly (and are most likely both self-indulgent and juvenile). So on with the dark broody musings...

Lately I have been thinking about death and find I am not concerned with it at all. This very fact concerns me to some extent. It seems rather natural to have some apprehension about death. I wonder how I missed this gene. I wonder if it is a hang-over from all the "Peace Like a River" talk of my evangelical upbringing. Anyway, I have never been afraid of death. On the contrary, I think of it is as a restful period of great relief at the end of a long, stressful, event called life (what this says about how I live my life is topic for a different discussion). I sometimes feel I should be afraid of death. But I really can't find a reason to be.

What does concern me is the concept of any kind of reality post-death. This concern is completely devoid of any sense of fear about eternal damnation or hell. I don't care what sort (heaven, hell, reincarnation, ghostly haunting, purgatory, etc.), I will be equally disappointed with the existence of any afterlife. It exhausts me to think that if, after a long life on earth, I have something else to experience, do, think, feel, be, etc. The idea of eternity makes me want to flop down on the floor and cry "I give up!" If I wake up in heaven, I will do exactly that. I've done about everything I can to avoid ending up there. And as for hell, I'll be equally as disappointed, but will probably prefer the company.

So here's hoping that death will be what it is supposed to be (according to me) -- an ending, a dark sleep with no consciousness, a black, black hole of nothing.