Suicidal in Heaven – A Journey of Choices

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And suddenly I’m not in a place where there’s nothing. Suddenly, I’m in a perfect place. No, much more than perfect. The place where I am can’t be described, it is too sublime for mere words. I can tell by a mere glimpse, even having seen nothing more than what’s possible to see between two quick blinks. I was paralyzed, everything was impeccable, everything was so perfect I didn’t think I was worthy of that place. I didn’t deserve heaven.

And it was in heaven that I found myself.

How did I get there? How was it possible for a suicidal to be walking around God’s kingdom? How could I be in heaven?

It didn’t matter, even because, opposite to when I was in hell, thinking about these questions didn’t bother me. When I was in hell, I knew I’d never have the answers to any questions I thought about asking, and here is the exact opposite. As soon as I think about a question, some sort of answer comes to my mind; not the answer itself, but the certainty it will be answered. There’s no voice in my head that gives the answer, it’s just an invisible certainty. A feeling.

Around me, everything is white, as if I was really on clouds. But I know it’s impossible, so a look a little more carefully and what were clouds become… clouds that aren’t clouds. They look like clouds, but there’s a solidity that also makes the ground feel solid. The floor is light, but solid. It seems that it’s going to crack when stepped on, just like a frozen lake. But a lake that’s still freezing, not solid enough to walk on. However, stepping on heaven’s floor, you can tell it’s really solid, really resistant. Its looks doesn’t match with what really is. It’s complex, but it couldn’t be different, I’m in a much superior place to the roles of Earth and mundane understanding.

I quit. I quit trying to figure out what it is I’m stepping on. I just accept it, and feel good about it. And it’s the first time that happens. I’ve always liked (needed, actually) to understand everything around me. I liked to know how things worked, ’cause I liked to be (or look like) the most intelligent person in the room. So, in life, I was never able to accept things, at least not without getting depressed or angry. Not that it used to take much to get me depressed, but anyway… But here I can change, here I can be different. I can be what I always wanted to be. And that makes me happy.

After giving up, I look to myself, literally. Even with the thick clothing, I see my body, it is everything I’ve always wanted. Low fat rate, as if I only ate healthy food and exercises constantly. Besides being strong, I know I’m also flexible. I know I can get my head between my knees and grab my own feet in case I lower myself down. In life, I was sedentary, in heaven, I’m perfect. At least perfect in the sense I thought perfect meant. My hair is also the way I’ve always wanted, and also my beard. In other times, seeing myself like this, I’d have thought I’d given up many things for vanity, and that it wasn’t healthy to be vain. But now I’m in heaven, and see all of this with different eyes. These mundane feelings didn’t matter anymore, what I thought on Earth was different from what I thought here. I was beyond human thoughts and prejudices.

After the surprise with my body, I look at my clothes. And, even knowing I sound boring and repetitive, I see they’re perfect. They’re all I wanted. Slim suit, ice shirt, also slim fit, big black buttons, and cufflinks. Fine Italian tie, hidden by a gray scarf. Leather strap watch, white dial, numbers (roman) and thin black hands. Pointy shoes, and, just like the gloves, black. The perfume is oaky, and I feel as if I’d just sprayed it.

I’m just the way I’ve always wanted to be, both in physical and clothing aspects. But that’s not what makes heaven perfect and superior to hell. No, the responsible for making heaven so much better is the cold. I’m freezing here, I fell as if the temperature was minus 86, 104 degrees. My nose is running, I can’t breathe right, my skin feels like it’s burning, I put my arms around me to try to get warm and remember there’s something called frostbite (but I don’t worry about it, it wouldn’t be heaven if some part of my body just fell down from being frozen), and I give the biggest smile of my life. I love cold, I love this extreme condition, I love not being able to breathe, I love to sneeze. I love how people take better care of themselves during winter, when they get dress, and how they’re more reserved. I love cold, I’m completely in love with this condition. What makes heaven paradise and what makes hell a place of torture is purely and simply the temperature.

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