Lovely

Hey guys! So this is my first story, I hope you like it. I need help with the title because I just don't think Lovely is going to cut it, but i guess I'll figure that out as I go along. Feel free to give me any feedback you have(: Enjoy!

                                                                                    ******

Death. The word in iteself is wonderfully foredboding and beautifully tragic. Not that death is a good thing, mind you, but behind the five measly characters there holds so much emotion. And while to everybody a cat will be a cat and a dog will be a dog, death is a concept so entirely different, that no soul will ever come up with the same definition. Not one human will ever think of that particular world in the same exact way as another.

I took the liberty of looking it up myself. According to that merriam-webster fellow, death is: a permanent cessation of all vital functions- the end of life. So that is the word in the most literal sense. I can't say that I disagree; after all, mirriam-webster has always been an honest friend. Whenever I find myself struggling to contemplate the meaning of a word such as this, he has given me a blunt and deliciously precise phrase in hopes that it will help solve my predicament. Yet while I have his side of the story, I also have my own.

You see, I don't believe that death is the end of life. We as creatures live on in the minds of others. That may mean nothing to you, as you only know a numbered amount of people who would carry on the full embodiment of you in their brains. Not even the full embodiment. No human other than yourself can come to understand all of the nooks and crannies of your own personhood. Most of the time you can't even manage that feat yourself. But a projected image of you lives in other people's minds -sometimes doing justice to the deceased you, sometimes not- and as they come to an end of their own lives, others remember them remembering you, and so on and so forth.

I guess that what I'm saying is that death isn't so bad. It's just a plot twist that leaves you and everyone else stunned. What you percieve of that plot twist is entirely up to you and your own complicated mind structure. If you want to see death as a tearjerking end to a wonderful existance, then so be it. That's your decision. Me? I see death as a thawing fire in the middle of a harsh blizzard. Death is a worn out page turner and a steaming cup of sweet cocoa that sends puffs of translucent shapes into the air. Death is a fuzzy blanket that reaches out and caresses your pink cheeks, sending waves of comfort. I welcome death with open arms.

I've seen death before, in all of its glorious forms. The first time I ever experienced death was at the age of seven. My next door neighbors wanted me to watch over their tank of various fish, and I eagerly agreed. It was placed on my dresser across from my bed like some kind of tropy that I was proudly modeling to any passerby who happened to drop into my room. I had never had fish of my own before; my mother had shaken her head, frustrated with me for begging her over and over to house just one aquatic creature in my humble bedroom. As you can imagine, this was an exciting moment for me. I fed them according to the times that my neighbor's loving mother had written down. Not a minute early, not a minute late. Even at that time I had a passion for books, so I brought the most current one with me to curl up on my bed with and watch the fish. I didn't get much further than a page before I checked all five gilled creatures to make sure they were doing okay. And so it went, read a page, check on the fish. I was content with it. 

That night my grandmother, who was staying with us at the time due to illness, came to tuck me in. As I slowly drifted into peaceful slumber, she reached over to my light switches and flicked them both off. What she didn't know was that only one controlled the lights. The other switch, sitting proudly, cut all the power off from my room. To this day I don't understand why it was needed, but alas, it was there. I woke up the next morning, yawning, only to find that my precious fish had all stopped swimming throughout the night. The fish tank's power had been switched off unknowingly by my grandma. The whole day was spent with fresh tears flowing, mourning in grief over the lost fish.

Looking back on the whole fiasco, it wasn't a big deal at all. Just a crack in the sidewalk that I came across every once and a while with my bike. The tire would get lodged inbetween the cement, and my soaring spirits would plummet. So I would dismount the seat, walk to the back wheel, and pull up on the spokes until the bike was free and I could joyfully continue on with my ride, the wind blowing at my helmet-covered hair. Compared to the rest of my ride, it didn't matter. While I made a whole big deal about my bike being stuck, I was fine. I would forget that it had even happened. 

The fish incident was like that. Pushed to the back of my mind, irrelevant to the rest of my life. It seemed like a big deal at the time, but it wasn't. And that, I think, is how all deaths are. Compared to the rest of the world and all of the deaths that are going on around us, mine isn't going to be important. Maybe to a few people that I really know and love. They might mourn me for a couple of years, and while I may be remembered on and on, I won't be important. None of our lives are important. The figment of me that will live on in people's heads is not important, and neither are the figment that they will leave in other's minds. And that isn't a bad thing. Just a fact. 

As for the question of an afterlife, well I don't know. Since I don't think that death is necessarily the end of the living, I prefer to call it The Extension. I can't begin to fathom what The Extension may be, and to be completly honest with you, I don't want to. I just want to see where this life of miniscule importance will take me. There will come a time when I will find out what The Extension really is, and if my sense of timing is correct, all of my questions about The Extension will be answered in ten seconds.

Although you can't trust my sense of timing. After all, I have been thinking all of this over in the time that it takes for one vehicle to make impact with another. I've heard that it seems almost slow motion when you are about to die from a car crash, so it gives you time to see your life flash before your eyes. It hasn't necessarily been that dramatic. But in the short amount of time that it took for my dad's car to hit a speeding delivery truck, flip over, and for me to crash through the windshield, I've done a lot of thinking. 

So, death. Close enough to taste on the tip of my tounge, the tangy flavor of hot blood. The Extension right before my eyes. I don't mind it. Death and I have come to terms and shaken hands like civilized adults.

But, if there is one thing that you should get out of all this, it is not about The Extension. It is not about whether or not there is one. You should not be contemplating whether or not you should install a switch that turns off the power instead of the lights in a room (which I do not advise). No, you should come out of this with one thing, and one thing only.

Always wear your seatbelt.