All I could do was think if the price to be, in fact, in paradise, was giving up humanity. I walked, I know it was a lot, but it seemed little. The question in my head bugged me too much; was it heaven such a bad place, to the point of asking whoever was there, to anyone who integrated paradise completely, to let aside part of who they were? Not just as people, but as humans? And if heaven did ask for that, why was it considered heaven? And why didn’t I lose that part? Is it possible I wasn’t fully integrated? What was happening?
WHAT IS HAPPENING?
I shouted, and everyone looked at me. I looked at everyone, then I looked beyond them. I wasn’t in the city anymore. I was in an enormous park. The park was a lot bigger than all the forests of Earth combined, maybe bigger than the planet itself. There was everything in it, from trees to an ocean, people seated in benches made of wood, stone, iron and an almost infinite variety of materials. Children were playing, running, flying kites, swimming in lakes… everything children ever did to have fun in open spaces. Adults walked, some hand in hand. Others were sitting under trees, some using a mantle to put above the grass before sitting down. There were couples, there were single people. Old men played chess and checkers, old ladies knitted. All I’d ever seen, whether it was in real life, movies or books, was in that park.
So I took the GPS, which informed me I was in the space between kingdoms. That was a shared place. While in hell there was a constant concert, with alcoholic drinks and true happiness, and also sex, here there was just a lazy Sunday afternoon. Everyone was also happy, but how happy people get on a Sunday? It’s always a day to sleep in, have a nice lunch, but nothing hides the fact that tomorrow is Monday. The happiness in the infernal concert and the happiness in the celestial park had the same sentiment, but were very different from one another. I didn’t care why it was that way. Actually, I thought I knew. It’s maybe heresy to think this, but it was what I was feeling:
Happiness in hell is genuine, while in heaven is something built.
Not exactly built, but it’s a kind of happiness handed out to you… This is difficult to explain… handed out… handed out… I got it! Happiness in heaven is the same happiness you feel when something is handed out to you, when we get something we really wanted. It’s an incredible feeling, to finally have in your hands what you wished for and dreamed with for so long. The happiness you feel is almost indescribable. Happiness is like this. While happiness in hell is similar to being able to afford what you wanted so much and dreamed of. Is the moment when you’re paying for it and remember everything you’ve been through to get that money: the nights barely slept, the hours at work that seemed endless, the time spent working your ass off. It can be the same object, but the feeling of happiness for being able to buy with your own sweat is much better and much more indescribable than if it’s handed out. In hell, being happy is hard, so, when it’s possible to be, it’s much more appreciated. On the other hand, in heaven is easy, and so, it’s difficult to value as it should.
I knew I had walked a lot, but I didn’t think it was enough to be able to get to Gabriel’s kingdom. My steps would never be fast enough to surpass the speed of expansion of the city, so it didn’t matter how much I walked, I’d always be “stuck” in the kingdom. So how could I be outside of it? I believe there were just two choices:
1 – I thought I wanted to leave the city; maybe unconsciously I had been scared of what they might do to me there, I feared the brain washing of the angels and begged to leave there. It didn’t make much sense, ’cause I always thought that being in heaven there would be angels everywhere, which would make running from them impossible, going to a different place in the celestial dome. But it wouldn’t have been a conscious solicitation, and the subconscious works in mysterious ways;
2 – The angels that were actually inside my head couldn’t manage to control my heretic thoughts and sent me where they would be “more accepted”. Or, at least, they wouldn’t bring major consequences to those who are their bosses. But that also doesn’t make any sense, ’cause heretic thoughts shouldn’t exist in heaven, specially when they come from a suicidal.
Suicidal… Suicidal… I’m a suicidal, I killed myself, I took my own life, I chose to end that (if I remember correctly) which is the holiest thing that can exist in whole creation. I accepted that I was in hell, I even accepted me presence in purgatory, but how can I be in heaven? It should be impossible. I shouldn’t be here, I had committed a very serious sin. Maybe the most serious a person is capable of committing, after taking someone’s life. I shouldn’t be here, I don’t belong here. I know that, I feel it, my thoughts make this very clear. But, still, here I am. A suicidal in heaven. How is that possible?
Anything is possible.