Suicidal in Heaven – A Journey of Choices

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27

XXVII

I feel my parents suffering, I wonder, if this is hell, where was I before, and ask myself how could I have lived a life without living it, I imagine the horrors I’m about to see and the punishments I’ll suffer, and notice there’s still a lot of time to spend in this line, but nothing beats the heat. There’s nothing worse than the heat! I hate it.

I try to ignore the fact the best way I know how, by listening to the people in line. In hell, everyone understands each other, I’m not sure we’re all speaking the same language or if there’s simultaneous translations in everyone’s minds. I believe in this second possibility, simply because it’s more fictional, therefore, cooler.

But this detail doesn’t matter anymore, well, actually it does, but it is of less importance. Maybe not, maybe understanding how communication is possible is more important than communicating. That’s how my old self used to think, and the old me wasn’t very helpful. Maybe it’s time to change, the good thing is, if I don’t like it, I can try a new approach, and if I don’t like it again I can change again, trial and error. After all, I have all eternity to try and find myself.

I leave “how” behind and focus on the communication itself. Most of the speeches I listen to are from people who shouldn’t be there, most of them swear they’re innocent. They swear it’s a mistake, ’cause they lived a correct life. I almost laugh out loud, no one lives a life worth of heaven. According to the Bible, everything is a sin, if there was someone who definitely shouldn’t be there based on the way he lived it was me. After all, I hadn’t lived at all. Had it not been for my suicide, I would have lived a life worthy of being saved by biblical teachings and all it took for that was not living. Am I being devilish, sarcastic and ironic? Probably, but so what? I’m already condemned to hell…

With my super-hearing, and I feel weird saying this, besides feeling like a comic book character, I forget about the conversations about mistakes, injustices and lack or earning and focus on those who accept their fate. Most of this tiny bunch is like me, non believers. People condemned simply because they thought that lack of evidence was proof enough that life after death, heaven and hell weren’t real. I sympathize with them, it’s unfair that there isn’t ways on knowing what is reality. But I believe that’s God’s plan, to separate the weeds from the wheat, to have faith in life after death is for a few, and few are the ones who deserve an eternity of happiness.

Then I notice a conversation that distracts me from the others and makes me laugh, from people who lived their lives as Catholics, God-fearing people, church-goers, but who, at some point, made a small mistake. Most of them made the same mistake; got their herald of faith rich. That’s when I find out that paying tithe is a sin. No one should be rich and, from the moment someone helps another to get rich, the person who donated the money becomes accomplice, corrupting the one who should live his live spreading the word of God. The corruptor is as guilty as the corrupted. It’s impossible not to appreciate the irony, or holding my laughter.

These innocent people amuse me. They amuse me for so long that I don’t even realize I’m already at the counter.

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