What is life?
That which we breathe? Or does it encompass the tapestry of experiences, choices, and meanings we weave from inception up until death?
Is life defined by how long it is you live, or by how you live it?
Having gone through numerous monologues of how it is I am who I am, and not someone else, I am yet to find a definite answer.
Even without finding the answer to these questions, I find myself drawing further follow-up questions.
What is the meaning of one's life?
To be born, to live, and, in the end, meet your inevitable end, or is there a much deeper meaning to it all?
What is one's purpose in life?
To live your life in a way that ensures you are remembered, or to live life in a way that pleases you the most?
Maybe I'm fortunate to have no answers to these questions, after all, it is often said that sometimes answers do not bring satisfaction, or clarity, but rather only open up more questions than answers.
As they say, ignorance is bliss.
Maybe I am missing something here. Do people still exist somewhere after death, or do they completely cease to be?
I am far from being a religious person, but maybe the religious people have it easier than I do.
They, at least, have found their purpose in life and answers to all these questions, or are on a wonderful journey to discovering them.
The biggest struggle in the sixteen years of my life has always been to find a clear goal or something to motivate me, largely because of how easy it has been to do anything for me.
It all came naturally to me: studies, sport, people, and living as others expected me to. But it all felt so... Empty.
And now, with my consciousness stuck in this limbo, this constant state of idleness, the questions ring louder, more than ever.
I can't move, I haven't been able to for a very long time. Time to me had become a concept, immeasurable.
The last thing I remember is being hit by a speeding vehicle, a mind-numbing pain followed, it was so unbearable, I wished for a quick death, fortunately, my wish came true, and then, everything went dark. I have been here, wherever I am, ever since then.
I'm starting to think, wishing for a quick death was not such a good idea after all. Well, here we are.
It's a shame, though, dying after only sixteen years of life. I sighed inwardly.
It feels like I am lying down, still, motionless, idle, just me and my thoughts. In a dark, endless abyss.
Am I lying down, though?
You see, the problem is, I can't 'feel' anything, all I have is my thoughts, in a non-existent body, like I have lost all of my senses.
Honestly, it feels like I have been here for more than an eternity, definitely more than I can describe, more than I have lived my life prior to this ordeal.
Am I really dead?
The thought echoed for the umpteenth time. And the more time that passes, the more I am convinced of it.
Is this what death feels like?
A new question popped up in my head. Maybe then, it would all make sense.
Time passed...
Sometimes, I would imagine my hands in front of me, as if I were staring at my palms, and then I would grasp onto an invisible string, pull on it, and then I would try to imagine myself waking up.
But then, I always come up empty. The hands vanish, and I find myself staring at the darkness once again.
Sigh.
More time passed...
Am I going to be here forever?
The inevitable question rolled off my thoughts like a toxin. A scary thought.
The thought genuinely scared me; I did not want to accept the implications of that conclusion.
That would be terrifying...
As soon as the thought registered, what if that is it? I found myself shivering. I felt cold, down to the core of my soul, in the middle of this dark, empty place.
I don't know how that is possible, because I had definitely come to the conclusion that I could not feel. But maybe it's just my soul feeling the cold.
I found myself growing restless. It was odd. Surely, considering it felt like I had been in this abyss for eternity, I should have grown used to it by now.
But that was it. Surprisingly, I found myself longing for a little bit of warmth, a little bit of something to hold on to, to feel something.
But I just felt like a consciousness with no body.
I screamed to myself, or I thought I did, for a long while. And not long after, it felt like I was crying, sobbing for a long time.
More time passed...
What followed my breakdown was a complete shutdown. I found myself growing more and more detached with the more time that passed.
Is this what they call acceptance?
I grew unfeeling, empty, and lost to it all. It all felt so surreal.
More time passed...
At this point, I stopped subconsciously keeping track of the passage of time. It felt so useless now. I was now convinced that this was the end.
There was nothing more to it. I would be stuck in this limbo, for all eternity, and maybe when and if existence comes to an end, so would I.
But, as more time passed, I realised that it was all a delusional thought I fed myself, so that I could feel a moment of reprieve, that once all life was over, this would also come to an end.
But what if this is the end of existence?
And as soon as the thought came, I felt something.
I felt an oppressive feeling of unwillingness well up from the depths of my soul. And it resonated with my very being.
It started off like a silent whisper.
No
No
No!
No!!!