Too Broke For Afterlife

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Have you ever wondered how many grains there are in a hand-full of sand?

Thousands? Maybe even a million?

And have you ever wondered, if you take a single grain and put it on your finger tip, whether you could still call it sand? Or would it only be able to carry that name once it is surrounded by numerous others?

Running my fingers through this dirty brown mass covering the ground behind the car wash, I'm reminded of my childhood, when I used to play in the sand box, building castles and baking inedible cakes.

Back then when my parents and I still lived in our house, before they decided to move into a fancy multiple-story apartment, far away from New York's suburbs.

I always viewed the sand as a whole, never paying attention to the single grains. Because without each other, they were useless to me.

And that is exactly how I feel.

I am merely one grain in the sandbox of our planet but have been ripped away from what I knew and now I'm sitting here alone.

Without others around to give me meaning.

I have lost the most important person in my life. Someone I've only known for a few months and yet grew so breathtakingly close to.

But she is not here anymore. And that is my fault.

Without her I'm useless. For myself and others.

I'm reminded of what Darwin once said.

You can't prove that something doesn't exist. You can only prove that something does exist.

Take an animal for example. You can never say that there is no such thing as a fluorescent green butterfly. How would you prove that? Search the whole Earth? Even then you might miss it.

Only once you do find a fluorescent green butterfly you'll know the answer to your question.

The same goes for me.

If I was to disappear now and never return, people might wonder whether I'm still alive or already dead. But only once they find my corpse will they have clarity.

I don't mean to say that I wish to die right now, but I do wish to not be.

Something that doesn't exist can't feel pain.

Something that doesn't exist can't be a failure or burden.

In fact, it can't be anything. And nothing seems like enough to me.

It actually seems like a while lot right now.

My eyes wander over the small forest that has grown its way through the broken fence.

I wonder, beyond the part I get to see, how big it truly is. And I wonder, if I were to take just one step through the bushes, whether my existence would turn into a question as well.

But the idea of that first step quickly fades when I hear someone else's approaching.

The dry sand is crunching beneath a pair of sneakers and with the way he is walking - slowly, lacking any impulsion or drive - I don't even need to turn around to know that it's Parker who is interrupting my thoughts.

He stands there awkwardly for a second before he sits down next to me on the cold, concrete step.

"Do you want to talk?"

"About what?" I watch as the sand glides down my fingers and collects itself on the ground.

"About what happened last night. The phone call."

"My girlfriend broke up with me because I was a burden to her and she didn't care about the fact that I was kidnapped. What else is there to say?"

"That's not true."

"Oh?"

I collect all my courage and look at Parker. He is scanning my face, probably inspecting the red patches my crying has caused.

"After you left, she seemed very worried but then we were interrupted by Nox."

"Ah."

"Ah? Do you know how mad she was?"

I shrug my shoulders and return my attention to the sand. Even if, why would I care? She can hate me. Let everyone hate me. It makes it easier to hate myself.

"She was not amused by the fact that we told Judy about the plan and…"

Parker stops and then puts a hand on my shoulder.

I'm surprised by the unfamiliarly nice gesture and almost want to pull back. But at the same time, his hand manifests my body.

It pulls me out of my apathetic state and back into existence. I'm still here. But I don't know whether that's a good thing.

"Judy is here."

I take my time to process the words and then look at him.

"What?"

"Nox found her and got her to Peru because she 'knows too much'. She's inside the gas station right now."

His eyes pierce through mine, he is looking for a reaction but I can't give any.

"You should go inside and talk to her."

"No."

I slide away a bit to escape his hand.

"I'm not going to talk to her."

"But maybe you can fix things."

I can't stop myself from rolling my eyes.

"Fix what? She made it clear yesterday that there is no second chance. I don't need another disappointment."

"Isa?"

When I hear Judy's voice calling my name, I quickly get up and dust off my pants.

Anything but this.

"If you tell her where I am, I'll kill you."

Parker raises his eyebrows. "You're acting like a 5 year old."

But I don't respond and instead jog over to the bushes, the car wash protecting me from Judy's eyes.

"Isa! Parker, where is she?"

And with that, the forest swallows me whole.

<<<

The scolding hot sun

and the wet heavy air

make the jungle a paradise

that is too much to bear.

Green towers above,

it covers all blue

and if you get lost

it is over for you.

Oxygen is rare

for those on the ground,

breathe in the sickly sweet scent

of the flowers around.

The jungle is Heaven

and Hell at the same,

a wild gorgeous creature

that no one could tame.

<<<

Dreams are a crazy concept. Would you agree?

And no, I'm not talking about 'I want to be a millionaire one day, surrounded by beautiful women on a private island.' Not those kind of dreams. Although having my own secret getaway does sound tempting. And a hot woman is always a winning argument.

No, I'm of course talking about the places your mind wanders to when you are asleep and cut off from reality.

Things like meeting a famous celebrity or climbing the pyramids with your deceased grandmother. And sometimes dreams can be recurring.

Ever since I was little I have been having weird dreams about a woman with pink skin and the most beautiful face. And despite that strange color she looked very much human. Her aura was warm, welcoming and I could feel the confidence bubbling out of her.

Every time she appeared in my dreams, I felt like I was spending time with my rich aunt.

The weird thing is: I've never had an aunt and therefore shouldn't know what it feels like to have one. My father has two brothers and my mom grew up as a single child.

So where did this familiarity come from? 

When I was younger and my friends once forced me to see a fortune teller, I asked her what a pink woman could stand for.

With wide eyes the lady told me that in my future she sees life, lots and lots of life. She told me I would age past human imagination and become part of something only the stars can explain.

I don't think it's necessary for me to point out that I don't believe in things like these. Especially not after the planned assassination that left me less alive than I ever had expected. With that, these interpretations were more entertainment than helpful.

So why am I bringing this up, you may ask?

Because last night, for the first time in years, I have had such a dream again.

I was standing inside a blinding white room and the pink-skinned woman was smiling at me.

But what made this dream so much different from the ones I was used to, was that for the first time ever I heard hiser voice. She was speaking to me.

"Don't fear, Isabella. I am looking over you."

To that my dream self replied: "Then where were you a few months ago when I was lying in a coma? "

You know me, I won't let someone go without a sassy remark.

But admit it, I had a point.

The woman nodded and simply folded his delicate hands.

"Your death was necessary for us to gain momentum. Soon you will understand more and I will introduce you to your fate."

The next words I spoke didn't leave my mouth and before I woke up, I saw her waving at me, still with a smile on her face.

Now please tell me: How am I supposed to find worth and meaning in my life when I have just been told that my existence was just another inconvenience on somebody else's agenda?

Exactly, I can't.. And maybe I shouldn't.