I cried for no reason.

It was scary to feel this good.

I cried because I was happy.

So happy, tears strolled down my cheeks.

I cried because you were there

And this wasn't a dream.

I cried.

I smiled.

I smiled for no reason.

It was so nice to feel this good.

I smiled because I was happy.

So happy, my cheeks began to ache.

I smiled because you asked me to.

And this wasn't a dream.

I had you again.

“Books are precious things, but more than that, they are the strong backbone of civilization. They are the thread upon which it all hangs, and they can save us when all else is lost.” – Louis L'amour

I hugged the book to my chest, my knees buckling under me as I fell to the floor.

Dylan is gone. He's really gone. The realization shreded my heart into so many pieces, leaving me bleeding on the floor in the most inhuman pain someone could ever experience. My chest was so tight I could hardly draw breath as the tears kept choking me from the inside out.

I was dead, but Dylan was gone.

The gray clouds fogging my brain ever since that day on the cliff scattered in the wind. I made a sound somewhere between a scream and a sob, my mind filled with all the things I denied, all the things I couldn't handle, all the things I can't handle. There was only one thought in my head, nothing else even mattered anymore.

He's gone.

I stopped breathing…

He's gone.

Black spots, forming in my vision…

He's gone.

I'm falling…

He's gone.

I'm clinging desperately to the book, can't let go, can't let it fall, not like…

Dylan.

He's gone.

Darkness.

Note: To put some perspective over what is happening here... this is a short piece from a story I'm working on. It's a fantasy story about a girl who dies and goes to the "in between", where she - along with the others stuck there - must prove themselves worthy of heaven... or hell.

If you asked my 7-year-old self what the afterlife was like I would say it was like the shiny black floor of the local movie theatre, empty and polished and always reflecting. I pictured God as a fluid entity made of the pink and blue light from the glowing neon lights above the tile. I was a weird kid.

Now, I'm afraid to imagine an afterlife. I'm afraid to die. I took an online class at the local community college called "Death and Dying" because I thought it would make me less afraid of death, but instead it infected me with a constant awareness of my own mortality. We learned about mourning and loss, we talked about funerals and how much they cost (too much) and we read Tuesdays with Morrie. We learned that no one ever truly thinks that they themselves will die until it happens. We learned about the things they do with bodies after death, like cremation and embalming and burial and Donating Yourself to Science. We talked about assisted suicide in a level of detail that I never knew how much I didn't need in my life.

The only upside to the class is that I learned what I want to be when I die-- composted. They freeze dry your body and your bones crumble and they bury you in the dirt and plant something; you become human manure. I think that this makes me feel the most assured, that after I die I can give my body to the earth and my life will go to something else. Maybe I'd grow oranges or something and people would eat vitamin C that used to be mine, which is pretty cool and horrifying.

I don't know if I believe in God anymore. I know that some part of me believes in a sort of life after death, feeling someone's presence and love after they are gone. One of my favorite things to ask people is if they've ever seen a ghost because I think that's a way to get really cool stories, and also because it's surprising to me to find out how many people truly believe they've experienced something supernatural. It makes me want to believe in something more. I tend to repress thoughts of death, knowing too well the rabbit hole of paralyzing existantial terror I am quick to fall into, but to this day I can't attend a screening of Jurassic World 2 without looking at the tile and feeling, just for a second, the endless abyss of the afterlife. In my opinion, it smells a lot like popcorn.

I don’t need two bedrooms. The first is quite cozy and bright. I’d like to get rid of the darker one. It’s unnecessary.

Ma’am, that’s not how this works.

Well, two bedrooms is not working for me. This second one is just sucking up all of my energy.

Ma’am, I think somewhere some information was misconstrued. We just supply your fuel.

Right. I don’t want to fuel this room anymore. I don’t need an extra room.

Maybe you should try calling your landlord? It sounds like you need a smaller property? Unfortunately, we can’t help if you have too much space to manage.

I don’t rent. I bought this space. The bank said I can’t just return it. I’m hoping you can just stop fueling the extra space. I just want it to go away.

Miss, I have no way to only provide fuel to some areas. Could you just avoid that room?

I’ve tried that. It’s just that it keeps sucking up the rest of my house.

You’ve lost me.

At night. I spend all day cleaning and tidying. Especially in this extra room. I empty it out. I throw out things I don’t need. I lay down in bed, and I can’t sleep. I get up to check the room, and it has pulled everything it finds interesting back out of the trash and the gutters. Then I have to clean it all up again before I can sleep.

Maybe you could call a realtor? Just get rid of the whole thing, and start over?

Yes. I thought that as well. This is actually my third house. I used to have a one bedroom, but it couldn’t contain me. I bought a two bedroom to move some of my mess into, and it seems to be following me. I dumped it all before I bought this new home, but when I got here the second bedroom was already filling up. I’d like to cut off all power to this room. It should be vacant. Then I might sleep.

Ma’am...

Never-mind. I’ll just move some things around, turn off the lights, put the music up a bit louder. Maybe I will be able to drown out whatever is going on in there until morning. I’m a bit worn out.

That sounds like a great idea, miss. Good luck.

Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll call back tomorrow.

Behind my mask lies my soul

Behind my mask lies my secrets

Behind my mask lies things untold

Behind my mask lies me

Just me

Nothing special

Nothing shiny or new

Just me

Not some mystery for the thrill seekers or Mystics

Just me behind this mask just me

That's all

But what lies behind my soul is another question all together..