Your whole life coming to an end in 3 minutes. Your hopes and dreams, wins and screams, love and despair, now and there, heart’s desires, legs retire, darkness fading, running escaping – everything. Ending. Now.
Your heart starts pounding and guilt and nostalgia comes gushing in.
“I had so much to live for. I wanted to eat French cheese over the swiss alps. I can’t die young. What kind of a heartless creator would do this to me.”
Your lungs breathe heavier, as if to clutch every second of the clock from the inside of your body.
“Why is this happening to me? What did I do wrong? What will happen to me when I die?”
Time slows down, and your eyes open wider to gauge the seriousness of the problem at hand.
Your eyes are drenched in sweat, and you try to sit in a meditation posture. Hoping that this will help you have an easier transition to the after life.
Your mind quiets down as your brain relives all of your favourite moments. Your heart gushes with love when you recall your childhood, and your mother’s smile as you waved goodbye on the first day of school.
“Hmm, I didn’t know I still had that memory. Maybe it was artificially produced by my imagination, based on what my mother told me about that day. I wonder what else I’ve been imagining up.”
“What did I accomplish in life? Nothing. I could have been a great leader, and now I’m going to live my last few minutes in a room with white walls and a silver spoon. ”
You think about what life and all of its ups and downs are all about. After all, you owe it to yourself at least on your deathbed.
“Ok now think. Think damn it. What is the purpose of my life and have I found it? Have I figured it out? Yes! or Probably No. If not then all my life’s questions would be answered now! Hurray! No more waiting around like the rest of the losers stuck on earth. Maybe I should have had this happen to me a long time ago. Maybe my questions wont be answered, maybe they’ll be silenced forever. ”
“Why am I doing this to myself? I’m not truly dying, I’ll always be inspirit with everyone and everything. So what’s the big deal with my death? Why fuss over it? You know, I think I’ll miss my parents a lot, even though they were horribly annoying. But I guess my life has been a pointless endeavour from point A to point B. And so has everyone’s. Think about it. So what if I have freedom of speech, and so what if I was liberated from the British. So what? We’re a tiny tiny particle in the majesty of the universe, and we crib and complain about the little things as if they mean something. They mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even survival. Survival means nothing to me. ”
“Here it goes, the backwards count to death and impending doom. I had a great time here on earth, or is that something I’m supposed to say out of curtsey.
I’m almost 80 years old now, in human life terms, and I really deserve the answers to my questions now. Hope it works out for me in the afterlife. I dunno. Maybe 72 virgins or just a giant party. Fuck, what if I go to hell.
What if I get thrown in hell?
Screw it. I don’t want to meet a God that throws a good person like me in jail. Screw that God. I deserve to go to Heaven. But then again, who deserves to go Hell then? Hitler? Well what if he was born with a deformed brain that didn’t allow him to feel empathy for others. And Hitler was made by God, the same God that’s judging me now.
Screw that God. Screw the God that makes me feel miserable before meeting him. He’s gonna judge me? Nah, I’m gonna judge him.”
“Ohhh shit, I’m coming God. Hope you find a room for me up there in heaven. If re-incarnation exists, it would be a huge pain in the ass to come back as a cat, or as a puppy or something. What if I could time travel and become a Victorian-Era King. Nah, I would eventually get bored again.
That’s it! Maybe the reason to live life is to realize that eventually everything that’s interesting becomes boring, and everything that’s boring becomes interesting.
A back n forth, and a beautiful game.
Why would someone do this to us then? Taking us out of the worldly events, and sucking us right back into them? Boredom and interest, over and over again. Maya? Desire? What’s the true way out of this vicious cycle?
“Meat-loaf. I wonder if I could have had some meat-loaf”
You open your eyes in a jungle, and you yell out your first words.