Suicidal in Heaven – A Journey of Choices

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41

XLI

The house was a fun change in my routine in hell. But when the experience was over, I got back to what I had been doing since I had gotten in my place of damnation: I walked. I walked ’till I got tired, but stopped before something happened to my feet. I looked around and I was used to everything I’d seen. A mix of everything and nothing. I wanted to get somewhere, I just didn’t know where. I needed a GPS or, at least, a map.

I began to look for it. Tried to talk to people, to the condemned, but no one answered. Everyone was too busy being suspicious of me to answer. I can’t blame them, being in hell is natural to think anyone is a demon who’ll punish you. Specially if they don’t know you, maybe when I’m no longer new here I’ll begin to have more contact with everyone.

Hell has rules, and I need to figure them out. I need to figure where to find a house, how do I establish myself as a citizen. I also need to learn how to move, need to understand the geography of hell. I also need clothes and a portable fan. I need a lot of things to make my life easier. I smile. The smile turns into laughter. I must sound crazy, but who wouldn’t, being in hell, be thinking about making life easier?

Little by little I stop thinking my situation is funny. I dry off me tears and pull myself together. I take a deep breath and look around. Some children are looking at me, pointing at me and laughing. I don’t feel bad, I understand them. I would do the same, if I was with them. After all, what they’re seeing is a person (I think I’m old enough to fit in the “man” category, but I can’t see myself as a man in a mature sense) who is naked, crying laughing for any reason, except madness. Their laughter and pointing are forgivable. I smile at them and wave, they wave back. We move on with our lives.

I know what I need to do to improve my life, now I just need to prioritize. I need to figure out what I have to do first and begin with that.

Clothes could be priority number one, but then I remember the heat. I think about where I could find a fan, but I realize I have no idea. That’s when the real priority shows itself: I need a map. As soon as I establish my geographical knowledge as maximum priority, out of the blue, just like the welcome sign, the counter and the concert, a giant building turns up, with the sign: Information Center.

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