The Death of Perspective

There is a very specific aspect of dying that particularly frightens me. It’s such a little thing that I’m surprised it has occured to me at all.

I’m concerned that when something dies, something infinitesimally precious is lost completely in the perception and experience of the world in itself. For every perceiving subject, there are innumerable ways that the rest of the world can be perceived. I perceive the world distinctly as I perceive it, you perceive the world distinctly as you perceive it, my cat has its own distinct perception, etc. I worry that the objective world loses a particular quality, if not value, whenever one of these distinct perceptions disappears forever.

I know it’s silly, and I know that for every perspective that is lost there are several others gained by the nascent life resulting from death, but I will truly miss those perspectives for their uniqueness. Everytime something dies, its specific interpretation of this existence is lost.

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