I had this severe pain in the left side of my head. My head throbbed. I continued working hoping the head ache would stop. 10 minutes into work, I knew I needed a drive. So I got up and left.
I was 29. Horrible, I know. I need to really start smoking.
I lived alone in a fall-on-your-face-and-you’ll-probably-hit-your-head-apartment, without my parents who found it perfectly fine to die when I turned 18. Yes, they left me no siblings. The aunts and uncles and cousins were all perfectly too annoying.
As all these depressing thoughts passed my head, I found myself near the elevator. As I waited for the torturously polite elevator to finish its pleasantries on each floor and reach mine, the Greek god of my office walked right up to me and said, “I think you dropped these.” As I smiled at him and extended my hand, a strip of anti depressants fell into my hand. I looked down and said, “But these aren’t mine.” I swear they weren’t. But he smiled and walked back.
Asshole.
I mean what does he think of me? Yes, I am not exactly chirpy but come on, I wasn’t on anti-depressants.
Maybe I should take it.
The headache was worsening.
I reached my pityingly small car and sat in it. Seriously, did I look depressed?
I took a quick reverse out of the parking lot and drove onto the main road. After a physically torturous 10 minutes in the traffic, I reached an absolutely empty road. And I drove like a maniac.
It felt nice. The wind in my hair. The absolute freedom of an empty road.
Then crash. Boom. Pow.
Dead as a doornail.
Holy shit. One time I drive recklessly and you kill me!
Okay, wait! How was I still talking? I mean, in my head.
I was dead. I somehow knew it. I was still there on that hauntingly empty road. But just that I wasn’t there. As in my now-should-be smashed car and my mangled body wasn’t. But I was.
This is confusing, I agree.
And as I stood there with a bewildered expression, I realized the left side of my head still hurt.
But they said there was no pain after death. Aw, crap! So they were lying.
I walked on that empty road.
If I had to choose between whether this was heaven or hell, I would say hell, alright. This place was empty except for me. Maybe only I sucked at living.
Then absolutely out of nowhere entered a man. A man with boyish eyes. A man with a crooked smile.
My ears. Violins did start playing. The street did fill with colours.
A man who seemed like he was waiting for me.
“Anya? I was waiting for you. Thank God, you are finally here. Hi, I am Aditya, your soul mate. Sorry, we couldn’t meet in life. I kind of died young” He said.
I knew it! My soul mate had died! I wish I could tell all the people that once mentioned that I was meant to die alone.
Okay, technically they were right. But whatever.
Oh, by the way, the lies about love are all true. All pain does vanish, music does play, and yes, you do start believing in life. Sorry, after life.
I was 29. Horrible, I know. I need to really start smoking.
I lived alone in a fall-on-your-face-and-you’ll-probably-hit-your-head-apartment, without my parents who found it perfectly fine to die when I turned 18. Yes, they left me no siblings. The aunts and uncles and cousins were all perfectly too annoying.
As all these depressing thoughts passed my head, I found myself near the elevator. As I waited for the torturously polite elevator to finish its pleasantries on each floor and reach mine, the Greek god of my office walked right up to me and said, “I think you dropped these.” As I smiled at him and extended my hand, a strip of anti depressants fell into my hand. I looked down and said, “But these aren’t mine.” I swear they weren’t. But he smiled and walked back.
Asshole.
I mean what does he think of me? Yes, I am not exactly chirpy but come on, I wasn’t on anti-depressants.
Maybe I should take it.
The headache was worsening.
I reached my pityingly small car and sat in it. Seriously, did I look depressed?
I took a quick reverse out of the parking lot and drove onto the main road. After a physically torturous 10 minutes in the traffic, I reached an absolutely empty road. And I drove like a maniac.
It felt nice. The wind in my hair. The absolute freedom of an empty road.
Then crash. Boom. Pow.
Dead as a doornail.
Holy shit. One time I drive recklessly and you kill me!
Okay, wait! How was I still talking? I mean, in my head.
I was dead. I somehow knew it. I was still there on that hauntingly empty road. But just that I wasn’t there. As in my now-should-be smashed car and my mangled body wasn’t. But I was.
This is confusing, I agree.
And as I stood there with a bewildered expression, I realized the left side of my head still hurt.
But they said there was no pain after death. Aw, crap! So they were lying.
I walked on that empty road.
If I had to choose between whether this was heaven or hell, I would say hell, alright. This place was empty except for me. Maybe only I sucked at living.
Then absolutely out of nowhere entered a man. A man with boyish eyes. A man with a crooked smile.
My ears. Violins did start playing. The street did fill with colours.
A man who seemed like he was waiting for me.
“Anya? I was waiting for you. Thank God, you are finally here. Hi, I am Aditya, your soul mate. Sorry, we couldn’t meet in life. I kind of died young” He said.
I knew it! My soul mate had died! I wish I could tell all the people that once mentioned that I was meant to die alone.
Okay, technically they were right. But whatever.
Oh, by the way, the lies about love are all true. All pain does vanish, music does play, and yes, you do start believing in life. Sorry, after life.
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