Quasi near death experience

As far back as I can remember, I have always been afraid of death. I think about the first time I realized that I would die some day, and I am sad for that little boy. I am sad because he had questions left unanswered. Questions that still exist because that boy was not comforted from scary concepts. As an adult, I have forgiven my parents about this; not that they needed my forgiveness on the subject. They probably did not have the words needed to explain death. I know this all too well.

I was about seven years old when I believe I first heard about death and understood the finality of the experience. In my mind’s eye, I see myself like a character in a movie; pacing the floor in our basement in circles in a panic. I knew that someday I would die. I recall doing this over and over again--walking in circles, hoping the walking would scare the fright out of me. The pit of my stomach felt empty and raw, my heart raced and my mind fixated on darkness. I could not understand why people didn't just live forever. I could not understand why people had to die.
When I was in college, I used to go out drinking quite a bit. Drinking, back then, consisted of buying a case of cheap beer. Or when money was available, buying two fifths of Jack Daniels, and passing them around the group as we listened to a Sam Kinison CD. The beer/JD appetizer was the key to our college drinking experience. It provided the necessary buzz level needed so the overall cost of the evening was kept low.

In college, I had a pretty high tolerance for alcohol. I only blacked out one time in four years; the contemplation of that consequence kept to a minimum. The night I blacked out, the last thing I remembered was walking home with a Resident Assistant from the all girls dorm and taking her back to my room. I woke up alone, in my boxer shorts and t-shirt, wondering how I got there. I was also left wondering what may have happened to the girl. I was in a casual relationship with another Assistant from the same dorm. I couldn’t help but feel like I’d done something wrong.

It was the first time I remember being afraid of drinking. Not because of my possible infidelities, but because of the blackness. It was the first time I came to the realization that a drunken blackout may have been the closest reality of death—a somewhat quasi near death experience.
Years later, after about a half dozen black outs from drinking, I've often limited myself to beer and wine. As I get older and realize that each passing day means one step closer to death, I get scared of the reality of a drunken black out. One minute you are consciously aware of your thoughts and actions and the next: DARKNESS. Some people may be comforted by this fact. You know nothing of life before you are born, and may know nothing of life when you are dead. There is no comfort, for me, in a concept so ridiculous as this.