observations on life

Prove to me I’m not dead, and this isn’t hell. You can’t.

You know that movie “The Sixth Sense?”  Where people had died but didn’t know they were dead and were walking around with the living?  Well, just a few minutes ago, I realized I died at some point, and this is hell.  I’m not walking around with the living.  I’m in my own private hell, where there are representations of people I know, but they’re not real.  The real people I know are alive and are walking around with other living people.  And the people I know who have died aren’t here either, because if they were, it wouldn’t be hellish enough to be hell.

The only thing that caused me to realize this is that a few days ago I was evidently moved from regular hell to Sisyphean hell.  Why I don’t know.  Maybe the universe decided that regular hell wasn’t bad enough after all.  So now I’m in the part where you work and work and work, and yet your task is never finished.  I’m not trying to be funny here.  I’m as serious as I have ever been.  And that’s OK, because none of you are real anyway.

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