The day I have died. Part one: A vicious loop

I was dead. I was standing in the middle of my room. My room; a normal bachelor room: old food on the table near the bed where the blanket lies on the corner, what appears as a chair; clearly mounted by a pyramid of cloths. The desk is next to me, that’s where my laptop, tens of unfinished coffee cups-which at some point I use them as an ashtray too. The laptop is always open, mainly on desktop; you can see one of Max Payne’s comic strips as a background. In this background you can see Max Payne falling, while he is saying “No matter how long you spend climbing up. You can still fall back down in an instant”.

I was standing in the middle of the room, staring at my dead body lying on the floor. I was lying dead in agony and misery. You can see the gestures of misery and agony crafted on my face.

Agony because I was mad to die at such a young age. At that age you are full of energy, dreams and hope. When you feel that you have the potential to change the world, you start to try, at that exact point of your life, you simply just die. If only Man can cheat death and alter his destiny. But what life is? Is it just a journey? Or is it a mean?

Misery for not being able to define what I wanted until now. Who am I? What I really want in this life or the life I had? Is it that difficult to achieve and have a peace of mind, soul and heart? Sometimes I always wondered if it is possible to run and leave this life to live in the desert, in an oasis, away from this material world, just a simple carefree life without the distortion of: politics, war, poverty, mass genocides or even the conspiracy of one Man against the other. A life that a four years old child can draw:  the warm beautiful yellow sun, the green meadows and the happy people. Apparently, What I am asking for is pure madness. I don’t miss being alive. I miss being a child.

I was standing in the middle of my room, staring at my dead body lying on the floor. If it is me who is dead, then who am I? Or what am I? Am I ghost stuck between worlds, just like Patrick Swayze 1990 Ghost? I don’t believe in ghosts. I am not one. I certainly can see my reflection on the mirror. Am I my good deeds? The bad ones? Am I a reflection of my past life, sent here for remorse, to be ashamed and regret my previous life? But why? I believe I wasn't that bad. I was of a good nature. I was, wasn't I?  What Was I? Maybe am not dead. Maybe I am present, and the body on the floor is just a vision from the future. Maybe am dreaming. Maybe I am the dream. Maybe I am an idea. Maybe I am just hallucinating… Oh God save me, help me with your infinite wisdom. Oh god, why most of us turn to you when we only have a need? Is it that we want a greater power to interfere and solve our problems?

The sun now is setting down. Darkness is taking over. The room’s features are starting to fade away as the light is escaping. I quickly turn around to see the sunset; that marvelous, natural, life-full piece of art: a calm sea, surrounded by high snow topped mountains; sun is setting behind the mountains leaving only an amazing orange aura, while birds are flying low heading to their nests after a long day. I suddenly notice across the other side, a man. He is looking straight to my eyes; that look that burns a hole inside of you, makes you tremble and shiver. He was another me. I can feel he wants to say something so bad. I kept looking at him while I was quickly fading away. Fading as the room gets darker. Darkness; Yes of course: my daily rest. I fade away in this eternal darkness, until a new dawn. I have been like that since forever: A vicious loop.