In life, I never really lived. I never gave much thought to what would become of me after I left this world. I knew the word of God, but I didn't believe it. I figured that if he did exist and was as loving as they say, he would spare me. If he had created all people and made them the way they were, he could change me to adapt to his will instead of being headstrong in my ways.
Yet I was afraid. If it was true, what would become of me? Engulfed in fiery flame? Or would I cease to exist all together? I was soon to find out. Sickness struck my fragile shell and I could not overcome it. I wrote my own obituary, knowing that the end would come soon. Name. Date of Birth. Accomplishments. I chose to inform those who bothered to read this page that I was well-read and an intellect. I focused more on my studies than love and other human diversions. All in all, it proved to me when I left this wretched existence known as life that I never lived.
I simply departed from my body. There was no bright flash of light or grim reaper. I was surrounded by darkness. I heard no sound, felt no presense of other souls such as myself. Without thought, my arms went to fold together and I felt air. I was no longer in solid form, not a gaseous state... nothing that my science could explain. In all logical reasoning, I appeared to be just a state of mind.
I tried to use one of my physical senses, but in doing so detected nothing. No smell, no hot, nor cold. I didn't walk so much as drift, but to drift where? I blindly reached out hands to feel only to find endless nothing except the darkness closing in, surrounding me. I tried o feel something, anything, some emotion, and I thought back to Dante's "Inferno". I had strong concerns with the epic poem. I vaguely remembered how the crime always fit the punishment. I felt frustration, lonliness, and depression. Perhaps this is the punishment I have earned. No sense of time, no cycle, no growth, emptiness frocing me into living, reacting, being.
