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I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory.
I believe that I think about the topic of death far too much, but not really as a fear but more as a familiar friend. At some point we're all going to die and the majority of us sinners will be trapped in purgatory. Whoever lives their lives as saints, congratu-fucking-lations, you're going on the claustrophobic elevator up to Heaven. I've never been afraid of death from what I believe. If the grim reaper appears at my doorstep one day, I'd gladly let it envelope me and free my spirit, if that's how God made it work. Death never yields and proceeds to take and take, whether a Saint or the Devil them self, and perhaps I'm next.
There's this inhuman pounding against me, like a bang of a thousand gongs within a millimetre radius away from my ear, or perhaps it was just an obnoxiously loud sound of blues music blaring in the white noise. I felt iridescent, drifting away from the surface of reality and sinking only deeper into this abyss as every moment passed by. It was so surreal, I attempted to move a muscle or shout from sheer panic, but I felt like nothing other than thin air. I couldn't move— I tried to move my fingers, kick my legs, rip my hairs out, or blink an eye, but nothing came out of it. A seething anger coursed through my veins and fear fuelled my heart. Perhaps this is purgatory, a torture that I shall endure to enter the joys of Heaven or whatever.
'Hey, lady, wake up!' A distant voice of a gruff man bombed my struggling.
In a crash of adrenalin, my world began to explode with bright orange and hazel grey bombs as it'd spiral endlessly. Fear. It chorused like a flash of lightning within me, but I couldn't do anything, I felt so puny and powerless. This fear then morphed into this rage which sent me into this storm which lasted an infinity. A deafening high squeal pitched my surroundings and then— jolt.
'Lady! GET UP YE BOOZE!' A man's distorted voice sent me barreling up. From the emptiness of my mind, with that once fuelled anger, instead everything began to dance in a daze and air took up the majority of my mind. Early rock music, if I was correct, pounded in my subconscious and I finally decided to open my eyes.
'Am I high?' I slurred, as my vision sharpened after it splashed everything together into one fat blurry scene. When my vision was able to make out where I was, my heart halted in such a rate it nearly made me puke my guts out. The thing is, is that waking up in an unfamiliar place would be a common thing when I was a baby-- I'd fall asleep on the couch in my home and after I regain my consciousness I'd be in my bed, tucked in, and the room dimmed dark with my ninja turtle nightlight illuminating against the night abyss. However, awakening in an unfamiliar place when I'm now a grown seventeen-year-old and about 125 pounds, far too heavy for anyone to bother carry, panic should arise. I rubbed my eyes and tensed, now looking at the figure above me who was giving me a daggering tomato face. His eyes bulged and so did his stomach against his white button-ups and black vest. His head was sleek and bold, sprouting grey hairs.
