Loves Me Not

PROLOGUE

Do you ever think about your own death? And not just think about it, but truly envision it?

I think about death quite often, at the most peculiar times. Like when I'm in the shower, or about to go to sleep at night. As my brain begins to drift, I imagine someone slicing me open, taking me apart from the inside out. I picture how it would feel, how painful it would be to die.

My mind wanders, thinking of all the possibilities out there. I've walked across beaches and boardwalks and thought about how it would feel to drown. The water taking up space in my lungs where air once was. I've concluded that it would be quite peaceful.

I've envisioned every type of death imaginable, from car accidents to house fires, to school shootings and office explosions. In every single scenario, I always die – there's no other outcome for me. It's as though my brain is preparing itself for the worst, because it knows that one day, this will happen. I will die. We all will. I mean, no one lives forever. Everyone dies eventually. So what's wrong with thinking about it?

I never used to think about it. I think I managed to get through the first eleven years of my life without ever truly thinking about death. But then at some point after that, it all started coming to me. The fact that death exists. The fact that humans are not infinite beings. The fact that there could possibly be a heaven and a hell, or there could possibly not.

The greatest question I have is: where do we go once we die? That right there is what scares me. Not death itself, or the fact that I will die, or the fact that it will most likely be painful. No – what I fear the most on this earth is the unknown aspect of death. Is there an afterlife? Will I go to heaven? Purgatory?

But that's all so religious. What if none of that truly exists? That's the most frightening part. Because once you die, you cease to exist. Once your eyes close and your heart stops beating, everything goes black. And then what?