Suicidal in Heaven – A Journey of Choices

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I’m alone, at least that’s what I think. I feel nothing, no one watching, I don’t see anything around me, except the red soot that emanates heat. Although, as soon as I recovered from the fall that turned my into jelly, I also thought I was alone, and there was a demon waiting to torture me in a way I didn’t think it was possible… So, I’ll not assume I’m alone, I’ll try to prevent surprise attacks. As if it was possible…

Since there’s nothing around me, I decide to walk, I’m naked, which makes me walk slower. I try to use my hands to cover my parts, but the heat is so unbearable I give up. Skin on skin just makes me sweat even more, and I’m sweating so much it feels I’m using clothes made of water. I keep walking without covering myself up, but knowing I’m covered by clothes that drip.

Hell looks like a great desolation, it’s always the same. Everything’s black-red, heat coming from the walls, ceiling and floor. At least I think the ceiling also emanates heat, I can’t be sure ’cause I can’t feel it. After walking 10 minutes I feel myself dehydrate, it’s too hot. And I hate the heat. Of course there’s no water, if there was I wouldn’t suffer, and not suffering isn’t something that happens in hell.

So I walk, feeling my blood thickening and all the liquid of my body running out. I should pass out, I should die, but I have already found out none of that will happen. All I can do is keep suffering. Suicide doesn’t seem like a good idea now.

Walking with nothing to see, no one to talk to, having only the pain from the absence of liquids in my body as company, I begin to think. I wonder if I’ll see someone again, if I’ll ever talk to someone again, if I’ll drink a glass of water, or maybe soda, with the thirst I’m feeling even something with alcohol would be welcome. I also wonder if I’ll see my parents again, even though I wish they would save themselves, I know it’s not possible, and if they were in hell we could see each other, I could apologize…

I stop and cry. A tearless cry, but a cry nonetheless. I feel what they’re feeling, I’m not sure how long it’s been on Earth. Maybe I died ten years ago, maybe not even five minutes have gone by since I was cremated, it’s impossible to determine that. All I know is that they’re still suffering, and that’s not a good indication of time, ’cause I know they’ll suffer forever. I’m not sure for how long I feel their pain, but comes a moment I decide I shouldn’t punish myself anymore. No, I come to the conclusion that this punishment is quite enough, I can go back to that later, but now I have to move on with my life.

That is, move on with my death…

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