Your Obituary

You’d assume, given your state, that there would be a total lack of existence, not a transition from it. This residual consciousness challenges your pagan disbelief. You’d say, “Nothing is supernatural because everything in nature is natural.” But for once, you’re separate, outside of the constructs of reality. You’re thinking without your synapses pulsing, realizing that you may have been mistaken, misdirected, and misinformed. Are you a soul? Are you moments from nothingness? You’ve heard yourself say, “Time itself is a construct, everything happening simultaneously but the mind interprets it chronologically.” Have the last seconds of your life been stretched long enough for you to exist in a vortex of thought, memories, and infinity?
You remember that you loved scratching crystallized carbon onto thinly sliced trees, transferring images from a space that lacks dimensions into one that contains them all. You loved tapping your fingers in sequences that have yet to be transcribed, using perspectives that have yet to be had, bring worlds into existence, ex nihilo. You loved people, craving the bellows that come from your unscripted performances. They were an audience that you empathized with from an undesirable distance. But now there’s more distance than ever because inches, feet, or miles cannot be measured within your current state. All you have now is complete separation.
But what troubles you the most is that the thought of all the potential energies that should have become kinetic have transformed into regrets. A desire to be displaced from your current timelessness is all you have. This makes you think of the finality of the mythic consequences you so fervently discredited. Is the infinity of this moment the punishment? Maybe it is the gnashing of teeth between ancient fictions pressed on rice paper or maybe the hell your mother warned you about.
But soon enough you don’t care what you were when you were living because you’re not that anymore. You’re not you. You are the fading sparks of information travelling between neurons. You are the antithesis of infinity, beauty, and tangibility. But now you know what post-life means and what it doesn’t.