It’s been over a year now

It’s been over a year now, since I died.

Everyone around me is talking like something is supposed to be different. They all say, “Now is when the real work begins.” And internally I say, What? You mean the first year of being dead wasn’t real work? Then what the fuck was I doing?

It almost feels like when I turned eighteen. Suddenly, one day, the sun set. And when it rose the next day, I was an adult. Everything was the same, and I didn’t feel any different, but because the sun went down and came up again suddenly everything “was” different. And that’s how it was reaching my one-year death date.

Dying was the best thing to ever happen to me. I’m a much better person this side of the ether. The problem is that I don’t fit in. I didn’t fit in when I was alive, either. When I was newly dead, I felt a terrific camaraderie with all the other dead people and they welcomed me warmly, with open arms, loving me and accepting me just the way I came to them. But now that camaraderie has become sort of de-facto, and I realise that it’s pretty superficial. Not that they don’t care, but the feelings are all just on the surface. There’s no deeper relationship there. And what I desperately want and need is a relationship with someone. A friend. Someone I can talk to.

Friendship 7

Friendship 7 (Photo credit: NASA on The Commons)

But even after a year of being dead I haven’t made any close friends. I feel horribly alone.  I feel lost, sitting on a tiny, barren patch of sand, surrounded as far as I can see on all sides by an ocean devoid of human life. Nobody can reach me and I can reach nobody. Even after hanging around the same dead people in the same places day after day, week after week, until a year has gone by, I feel like an outsider.


I thought once I’d been dead this long everything would be different. I guess I thought I might get some superpowers or something- or at the very least become more sociable than I was in life.

In life I could create the illusion of friendship for myself. I could go to a bar and sing karaoke and feel like I was a part of something. Now here in the afterlife I really am part of something, but I don’t feel it. I just feel… well… dead.


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