Hanging

Tell me if you know about death.

...

I didn't think so. Well, neither I nor the others know about it

...

I suppose it's silence, death - the non-existence of me, you or the world. I wonder where consciousness goes. Perhaps it fades, dims - I want to say it dies, but that's barely descriptive.

...

Piercing eyes, glare down on me. Is that God? I don't know...I don't know whether to believe in him or shirk this higher being as nothing but a figment of my morale imagination. What do you think?

...

No opinion, eh? Let's start again, do you know what's in death?


Nothing

I imagined so. I guess you agree with me when I say: there is nothing in our future. We are headed to nothing...and we will become nothing .

Yes we are headed to nothing. We leave everything in life for nothing in death...
...but isn't it nice not to have burdens, pain and sorrow? Think of the darkness which you can have all to yourself in which neither societies nor laws exist and with its absence brings absolute freedom and tranquility.

And the loved ones...

They don't exist. What's there to miss or mourn when, all you know in death, is solitude, peaceful solitude.
Question your concept of darkness; question your concept of black death; question your desire for nothingness - it's so rewarding - so, so, so rewarding.

***

A body hangs from the tree in the park. Its dark silhouette looms at the corner of the eye, and catches the attention and fear of others. It swings in the wind, waving farewell while mocking the others who could only stare in horror.