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of Part 2:  (x – h)2 + (y – k)2 = r2

It's a weird phenomenon that something so unfamiliar can become second nature so soon. And something that was once a normal activity becomes a rarity. When I was first sucked into the white, it felt unnatural. For my whole life, there were things around me. Mountains, trees, grass, roads, buildings, clothes, blankets, people, bugs, leaves. Those were all "natural things". They were always around me. In the white, there's nothing. None of that. Just white. So, obviously, it was weird at first. But the longer I was in this void, the more natural it became. I adjusted to the white, and started to forget about valleys, and bushes, and flowers, and sidewalks, and fields, and life. I started to forget about my life. I mean, with nothing to define me, how am I defined? What is light without darkness?

So, when the whiteness starts to form into things around me, it's unnatural. Very unnatural. Very concerning. Some white to the right of me? Left of me? I can't tell. It doesn't matter anyways. Some white next to me starts to mold into a table, if I can remember the name for that correctly. White forms into walls all around me, building a room. A white door pops out from the wall. No white door handle, yet. Suddenly, I'm laying down on a white bed, with white sheets, and a white pillow. Am I actually in this bed? I can't recall what truly being in something is like. The white all around me starts to become more defined. Sharper corners. More definition between white and the next white. I open my eyes. But they were open before, weren't they? I was able to see around me. How could I do that if they were closed? I open my eyes, and shake my arms, and legs. They feel unnatural. Will I know how to walk? The sheet that is laid on top of my body crinkles with each of my body movements. Is this what being is like? I think so.

Though, the one thing I still cannot recall, is me. I've remembered walls and beds and tables and doors and legs and arms and eyes and being. But I can't remember am. I am.

Am I not?

Am I was?

Let's see. Think. Think, Darrion, think.

Oh! That's something.

I am Darrion Gubart.

No. That's not right. Unnatural.

I was Darrion Gubart.

That feels natural.

I was born on November 15. My birthday was on November 15. I enjoyed math and musical theatre. I lived in California. I was 18. I was a high school student.

I was riding a bike before I-

Before I died.

And I, Darrion Gubart, am dead. How do I know that? Well, how does one know they are alive?

And now, I, Darrion Gubart, am in a white bed with a white table in a white room with a white door. And I am too scared to move. So, instead, I think.

I think therefore I was. That's weird.

Anyways, I'm surprised I'm not more surprised that I'm dead. But I guess being in white for a separate eternity preps your body for death. I guess the weirder thing is that despite being dead, I'm still here in this white room. If I'm dead, I can't be alive. But I sure as hell- I hope not, but that's a worry for a different time- feel like I'm living. But I guess you also feel like you are "living" in your dreams, even though you aren't. So, it's like that, but in reverse. That doesn't really make sense, but I'll pretend it does.

That's when something other than white pops up in my room. I forgot other colors existed. It's a nice change. My new favorite color: black. On the other side of the room from by bed, above the door, text starts coming out of the wall. Big, blocky, letters. Two, technically three words appear. Don't Panic.