Feel free to skip this, putting it after the jump for those of you interested.
This is part of a fictional story though the more I write, the more I question how fictional.
I have this theory, that when you die, your body is left, but your mind, your consciousness continues on in another reality, one where you didn’t die, if a car runs your over, your mind hops to an identical reality where the car managed to break in time, if you’re killed in a home invasion your mind jumps to a reality where you remembered to lock your doors that night, or you didn’t fight back, or you fought back harder, one where you don’t die. It’s comforting I think, to imagine that he’s out there still alive somewhere, in a world where I can speak to him whenever I like, where I can call him up, or go to see him, a world where I didn’t lose him. A world where he went on to become whatever he wanted, where he wasn’t cut down so young. My theory only holds so long though, at some point you’re going to have to die for good, and who knows what would happen then, at some point even infinity can collapse down to nothing.
And even if my theory, my comforting idea is close to the mark, would you be the same person in these other worlds? Would your life be rewritten and if so would that even count as being still alive. We with every decision we make quash an infinity of potential realities, what about the decisions we don’t make? And what happens if it’s some natural cause, a bad heart, cancer, something long, do you vacate to a place where you have a few more days left? A place where the inevitable is just a few moments longer away? If so, how long until this catches up with you, and what comes after? These are the questions that keep me up at night…These are the reasons I can’t sleep anymore, this and what happens after I close my eyes, but that, I’m not ready to talk about that yet. Let’s talk about him.
I lost him, and I might as well have lost a stranger if not for how deeply it’s impacting me, I barely remember him anymore, I barely remember what we did, how we grew up, we weren’t the closest as I’ve said, but he was still my brother, I feel as though I should know him better, we were speaking again, we were getting to know each other once more as adults but it was not enough time, it is never enough time.
My life is a quickly burning page, my memory consuming itself bit by bit. How long can I stay ahead of the flames?