Burning- BAD way to go. Probably second worst for me. Until your go into shock or suffocate (depending on where the fire is), it'll feel like putting out a cigarette on your nutsack... but everywhere.
Drowning- After the initial panic, it's a feeling of euphoria, wouldn't be a bad way to go.
Strangled- There's gotta be a Carradine joke in here somewhere. If people can get off doing this, it must not be that bad.
Shot- Been there, twice. Fucking hurt, but that's only because the camelfucker that shot me didn't do it right. If it was a bullet to the head, it'd be one of the best ways to go.
Stabbed- Again, depends on location. The heart? Not bad. The kidney? No thanks.
Beheaded- What're we talking about here? Head on a block, one shot from an axe (or the guillotine) and you're done? Or are we talking rusty hand saw? BIG distinction.
Crushed- Quick by, say, an anvil, or is it going to be some
Giles Corey bullshit? Or do I have to watch as it's lowered down on top of me, like the robot in the first Terminator movie?
Poison- Wow, these are all
really open to interpretation. If it's Cyanide, or some other kind of suicide pill, then sure. If it's Drano, not a chance.
Diseases- Nah, I'd want to die in a way more manly than that.
Alone- Not a lot scares me. I laugh in the face of sharks, bugs, death, public speaking and snakes. Dying alone
terrifies me. And the worst part is, I know I will. It's not that I'm a bad person, or fat, or ugly, or dirty, or boring, nor do I posess any other flaws that would make me fundamentally unfuckable... that's the sad part. I pride myself on my skills with women. And I'm great in the sack.
What gets me, though, are two contradictory fears... a crippling fear of commitment, AND the fear of dying alone. Man, I'm fucked.