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Dying was and wasn't what I expected it to be.

I don't think death ever meets anyone's expectations.

In a lot of ways it seemed simple, yet complicated. Even though you are aware that you no longer exist among the living, you don't technically feel as if you are dead. The whole experience was in itself a sort of paradox, but in the midst of all this confusion, I can definitely confirm one thing... there was no heaven... there was no hell.

Or, I thought I could.

Where I ended up, there was simply a dark, infinite infinite space.

In this 'space' everything and nothing existed, it was dark but bright(maybe I was going crazy), everything felt tangible, but there wasn't really anything there. In short, it was confusing and annoying and the only thing to do was die of boredom. Ironically.

Time seemed to pass at a languid pace. There was no way to tell what time it was or how much time has passed. I was starting to get restless even though I didn't have a body to move, but it felt like I could move.

Eventually, I just decided that I would just think about my life. Probably go over it, think about what kind a person I was, what kind of person I wanted to be, what were my fondest memories, what TV shows I liked to watched, Which ones did I manage to finish, which ones I didn't particularly liked and why? I thought about all the boys or girls I never got to kiss(I was convinced I might have been pansexual), the places I wanted to go, The fanfiction that I observed almost religiously for updates. I wanted to finally get around to all those pinterest DIY projects that seemed so cool. I was almost done designing the perfect desk for my room and now it's a waste (I hope they still make it though it could possibly be a good income for my dad to make them on the side), but back to the regrets, all the anime I wanted to watch, and the manga I wanted to read will never happen.

I never got to try dango or marry a super hot brazilian and have lots of kids to equal the amount of names that I think are cool. Damn it! My sexy brazilian! I never even got the chance to have at least a long term boyfriend.

My time in that place was spent in thought and daydreaming, eventually thinking up different fanfiction plots that I will never be able to write but to be honest I don't think I would have ever really gotten around to it, mostly because I was pretty busy and was more interested in reading everyone else's fanfiction stories.

Back to the main point, I'm stuck here in this place and it sucks because I can't feel anything. I'm not happy, sad, or frustrated just numb, but like everything else, it was very confusing because when I went through my memories I could recognize all the emotions in the scenes and that's all I did I tried to remember everything that I knew brought fond memories but felt nothing as I saw myself laugh or cry. It was like almost watching a movie, as if that was not truly me experiencing this. I knew what emotions were being experienced and why, but I simply could not empathize. I couldn't feel anything. Nothing felt wrong or out of place, but logical manner I knew.

As time went on, the space I inhabited became smaller, and I started to worry whether or not I was developing claustrophobia; fortunately, it wasn't, but the bad thing was that this space was closing in on started to shove me upward rather harshly. There seemed to be an opening that I have never noticed before, could this have been the entrance to heaven? Finally, I've been waiting a long time for this, thinking I would never make it. There seemed to be something wrong though. why did the space feel like it was getting smaller?

Oh, wow.

If this doesn't cause me to develop claustrophobia nothing will.

Something is pushing me out...

Ugh...My head is out, but the rest of my body is still stuck...

Ok, I'm out...Shit! it's cold out here!

Am I naked?!...

SMACK!...

HOLY SHIT! DID SOMEONE JUST SMACK MY ASS?!

They're talking about something now.

Why does everything sound so far away?

I'm so confused…

After three months of practically being blind, my sight finally cleared enough to progress past the vague, blurry stage where it just seemed like there was just a bunch of splatter paint everywhere.

When I attempted to open my eyes for the first time, there was nothing but blurry, light blue blobs moving everywhere, against the brightest, white backdrop on the planet. It was like watching an inverted, colored sky moving. Everything was moving pretty slow, so I assumed that my new afterlife was just me lying down somewhere soft and fluffy(another cloud?) looking at they sky, and as far as I was concerned, it wasn't so bad. Which is why this "tunnel vision' did not particularly bother me most of the time; I just figured it was one of the perks of being dead.

I was a pretty relaxed and a bit antisocial in my last life. I took any chance I had to just sit down in any chair against the wall and observe whatever was going on. This sort of approach usually saved me from becoming involved in unnecessary drama throughout high school.

I picked up on body language pretty early. Watching others, learning about their ticks and habits enough to help me get along with others in a sense where I knew what to say, and what to do instead of actually sharing common interests.

My 'hobby' helped make sure that I won't ever particularly stand out, and I was more than okay with that since my antisocial tendencies seem to come from some bizarre, instinctual social anxiety I seem to have when there are large groups of people around me.

It made sense too since I always made sure I was always in the background and not anywhere nearly seen. It genuinely wasn't hard though; there was nothing interesting about me at all, I was only slightly above average in terms of looks(just good for a glance but not enough for a second look).

At the end of that third month, the tunnel vision completely disappeared, and I was finally able to see what was really going on. I was in some sort of cage that appeared to be a crib of some sort(if the design was anything to say). It looked worn from years of use and didn't seem to be particularly well taken care of if the dents and faded color from lack of polisher on the wood tools us anything.

I was there for quite some time before anyone came and took notice of me.

Eventually, someone did come. It was an older woman who seemed to be in her mid forties. She came in with a muted pink apron, greyed, brown hair, and tired, Hazel eyes. She seemed to be holding a bottle of milk in her hand. She got closer to my crib and peered down at me. As soon as she saw me, she smiled a sweet smile, and I couldn't understand why since I have never seen this woman in my entire life.

Either she didn't notice my incredulous expression or she just didn't care. She reached out, grabbing me to heft me up from my comfortable position in my wooded prison. I was quite bothered but decided it was too much work to really do anything about it but make a face to show my displeasure.

I guess she must have really found my reaction amusing since all she did was start grinning. It took off about ten years off her face.

She started to coo at me and talk in...Italian?

" Ciao, bambino Amara~

Marcela Zia `e venuto a nutrire e vedere como si sta facendo~"(1)

Yea, I'm pretty sure it's Italian.

She started feeding me through the bottle. I should have felt more alarmed about it, but honestly, weirder things have happened to me in my short life.

This woman couldn't expect me to understand what she was talking about, right? I only spoke about three languages. I say 'about' because I only knew English, Spanish, and how to read in Russian and very roughly knew some words to have a vague conversation, nothing complicated just basic stuff, and I even had some trouble with that.

"Guarda come carina quella faccia`. Quegli occhi sono positivamente vibrant.",(2) She continued.

Okay, I understood something about something being positive or without a doubt, but it could have meant anything since, like I said, I. DON'T. SPEAK. ITALIAN.

She kept babbling about some nonsense when I finally got fed up with her and opened my mouth to tell her that I only spoke in English and Spanish.

It was rather surprising to not hear English, or rather any language but baby babble come out of my mouth. Surely, that was a simple mistake right? There's no way that came out of these eloquent lips.

I was so stunned that I didn't notice her remove the empty bottle from my mouth and lied me against her and began, to what seemed like,'burp me'. Although I was grateful for the help, I couldn't help but think there was something wrong with this picture. I didn't know how wrong until,

"Mio Signore, si ottiene solo piu carino di tutti i giorni! Si deve vedere solo quanto."(3)

I was still lost on the whole Italian, but I didn't think it mattered once she sat me down.

Now let me explain, I thought I was in the afterlife. I didn't mind that all I was doing was laying down and sleeping. It was a change that seemed perfectly normal compared to my previous life where I barely had a spare moment to do anything I liked, which I sacrificed a tremendous amount of sleep to do.

Now that I think about it, I never got to the 'how's' of my death. It is quite simple, the universe thought it was hilarious.

No, really, it did. It's the only explanation.

I went years with the mindset of 'Sleep is for the weak' or 'I'll sleep when I die', and the one time I decide that I should do that 'eight hour sleep' everyone is talking about, it was the perfect time to execute that impromptu assassination by killing me...in my sleep. It wasn't even like there was a justified cause. There was no tumor, blood clot, allergic reaction, not even anything relating to my asthma. I just went to bed with the intention of some much needed rest with the intention of eventually waking up to continue my life.

I was not amused.

I figured I was dead when I saw my family freaking out trying to wake me up, calling 911, and scavenging my room to see if I took any drugs intentionally.

Thanks for the vote of confidence guys.

The medics declared me dead three minutes after their arrival since it was obvious that I have been dead for a while. At the morgue, they were scratching their brains out trying to figure out my cause of death but decided it was unknown.

I wasn't sad that I died, just worried for my family; I wouldn't want them crying over, my death unnecessarily. It was interesting to see what they did with all my stuff though.

So considering my personality, you see, it was pretty obvious to see why my "perfect" after life was just to show up somewhere calm and relaxing where I wouldn't have to worry about anything. And this old woman just seemed like some kind of hired help to let me enjoy my paradise to the max.

My mind just continued to unconsciously find ways to make this seem completely normal for an after life, but it seemed like I forgot one crucial part: nothing past death should ever be considered normal, or better yet, predictable, especially with the way I kicked the bucket. I wasn't even done with my list.

So when this, Marcella woman sat me in front of a mirror, I didn't see the face I was expecting. The waist length, dark, caramel colored tresses that I was used to were replaced with tufts of silky looking raven hair. The brown chocolate eyes, nope, just these abnormally large golden gems that seemed to eerily glow in the darker lights. And did I freak out and scream when I saw this wasn't me at all, but some baby? absolutely.

Ok, I admit. I might have over reacted, but I couldn't help it. I was just so startled to realize that this was supposedly my reflection when it shouldn't have been.

My sudden freak out seemed to have startled the old woman into thinking something was wrong or maybe thought I was scared of my own reflection.

Well,...she wouldn't be wrong.

"Ciò che è sbagliato bambino? Va tutto bene, andrà tutto bene".(4)

I don't know what she said, but it didn't help me feel any better.

Translation:

1) "Hello, baby Amara. Aunt Marcella came to feed you are doing."

2) "Look how cute that face is. Those eyes are positively vibrant."

3) "My lord, you just get cuter everyday! You must see just how much.

4) " What's wrong baby? It's ok, everything will be all right"

(A/N): Ok, well this is my first attempt at a story. The plot bunnies just wouldn't leave me ever since the idea came to me in a dream. I've even paused the other story I was working on to get this started (more like actually reviewing since that other story was written about five years to see if it was any good).

I actually put up a poll on my profile about which story anyone even interested in my work would like to see me work on next.

I would also like to request that anyone reading this would be kind enough to leave a review on their thoughts and whether or not I should continue.

I'd also like people to know that this story doesn't have a fixed plot, so I'm also comfortable with a PM giving me any ideas for possible scenes or any interesting OMAKE you'd like to see during the duration of the story.

There might be slow/random updates since I'm only a poor college student running on little to no sleep and sugar.

I'm also interested in a BETA, though I'm not sure on how to acquire one but once I look into it and if this story gains any popularity it'd be pretty awesome to have one.