One of the most morbid- if not ironic things about life, is death. Life and death, the opposing forces, yet a pair that are inseparable. A funny thing, about death. It's such a predominant feature of our lives, there is threats everywhere- and I truly mean everywhere. Walking in the street, a threat to your life. Swimming in a pool, yet another. The food you eat? The breathe you breath? Threats, threats, threats. Even your very own body can be a threat to itself; Allergies anyone? Our livelihoods and our un-becomings are intertwined to the point of un-entanglement. Intertwined so thoroughly that one does not only puzzle over the death of themself, but the death of others. Death has been a concept that many have pondered for many years, and has haunted us twice that long. Humans, with greed and envy so powerful, have came close to slaughtering countless cultures for our judgement of their beliefs. Humans, who on daily bases mourn their lost loved ones, and take for granted those who are still there.

Life is not something to be taken for granted. And I learned that lesson too late.

Perhaps I reflect on death so often because of the path my education has taken. Medicine. And when you face the realities of death and illness for so many hours a day, you start to ponder,

"Is there any use?". Our time has always been a dwindling flame. A candle, a fire that sometimes is a bright burning light that flickers out as fast as a meteorite. Or is a quiet, unassuming dim flicker that burns slow but lasts for years. Yet no matter how much wax we add in an attempt to preserve ourselves, our flames will always burn out.

I was stressed. I had my finals looming over the horizon. I rarely slept- I hardly ate. That was likely my unbecoming. All I wanted to do was pass, I could help people! I could add the wax to their wicke, sustain the burning fire that was humanity! I was too busy to be sick! My name was Amelia Patel, and I died of double pneumonia, cramming for exams to enter a profession to prevent this shit.

But what happens after death? There is certainly much more to deliberate on. Some cultures, believe in Heaven and Hell, others believe in the rebirth system. But belief isn't something that holds a high spot in my priorities, what does are facts. And there are none, because when you're dead you can't exactly come back, can you?

I can provide some facts, for myself at least. Death… is desolate. It's hard to pinpoint what I 'see', as it doesn't really feel like seeing anymore. It's a block colour, but yet it's not. It's a black yet it's not. It's almost like a phosphene, when you close your eyes and see the light that stems from your eyelid.

Part of me is wishing to wake up from this nightmare. Another part knows that I won't. And as for feeling… that's an entire new sensation that I just can't explain.

But I digress, the afterlife… is certainly unexpected. All I've ever wanted was to prevent this, preserve life. But isn't it ironic that the path I had walked was the one that would eventually lead me to my death. Was there anything more for me? Am I going to be given something more or will I be trapped here, with only my withering mind for comfort?

That was my final thought before everything changed.