Death Is Knocking At My Door

Knock, knock.

Me: What are you doing here Death?

Death: I came here because I saw you put in an application a while ago. I wanted to interview to see if you qualify.

Me: Qualify for what? A choice to die?

Death: Yes, because I need to know you are competent, you have references and if anyone objects.

Me: Oh, I’ve had many months to think about this. Why do I need references? Why would it matter if anyone objects? Isn’t it my choice in the end (pun not intended.)

Death: Sometimes when you ponder something too long your perception becomes distorted. I want references to vouch for you to state that you are suffering enough to justify coming with me. I need to see if anyone objects because don’t you think their opinion matters?

Me: This is dumb. Of course, people are going to object because they are pro-life and selfish to watch me suffer without trying to support me. No one has reached out to just give me money without wanting something in return. No one has asked me what I wanted to do for a day. I sit here alone nearly every day knowing that others read my posts on Face Book and they still actively make the choice to ignore me. They’ve ignored me even when I was more stable. Why would I care what they think or object too? As for my mental state, I think I am levelheaded.

Death: Well, let’s get started with the interview process to evaluate whether you come with me or not. I have a few questions to ask. Have you ever laughed so hard your belly hurt? Or experienced immense hope and all-consuming love?

Me: Well, yes of course I have. I love to laugh because life is too painful. I love to love because I know what it’s like for it to be taken away.

Death: Isn’t that part of living though? To experience true joy, you have to experience pain to really appreciate it. To truly love you have to come to terms with knowing it will evolve and change form.

Me: What other arbitrary questions do you have? It appears that you are trying to talk me out of coming with you without saying it. Aren’t you Death? Why do you care?

Death: Look, my job has a stigma attached to it. Everyone at one point or another hates me because they think I am not just. We all have a job to do and lessons to learn. My job isn’t to just take someone away. Every time someone comes with me there is a bigger purpose just like living.

Me: Fine, what is my purpose then? What purpose do I serve in a world that appears to be so cruel and unjust?

Death: I can’t tell you your purpose only you get to figure that out. Have you thought about maybe your purpose is to preserver and overcome adversities?

Me: This is exactly why I put in an application a while ago because I am tired of playing this game of “who can mentally be the strongest.”

Death: There is someone at your door I think you should answer it.

Me: I open the door and I’m confronted with all the different versions of me. I shut the door quickly. What the hell?! Death, did you know who was at my door?

Death: Yes, I did. Aren’t you going to answer them? They want to know if you are willing to let them all die.

Me: So, you are telling me I have to look at every version of myself and try to explain and justify why we are not worth living for anymore? How the hell do I do that? How do I look at my infant, adolescents, and young adult self and tell them what they experienced or worked for no longer serves me?

Death: That’s your problem to figure out.

Me: This is so fucked up. Why did you have to involve them?

Death: Don’t you see? Don’t you see that these versions are the ones that truly matter? It’s not Joe from down the street that matters. It’s not your foster parents, friends, or family that I am evaluating to see if they will vouch for you or have objections. It’s you! You are the deciding factor. If you cannot open that door and tell them they are not worth living for, then I have my answer.