Doomed Premonitions

An Essay about suffering, One man's view on his afterlife. Venting while sad

I feel this sickening feeling, no not feeling sickening something its almost tangible, I can’t explain it right now but its inside me. This miasma moving inside my belly �" I feel sick, not nauseated but sick. It moves up into my throat and it burns then back down into my stomach. I feel this miasma move inside me, like a black cloud, it spreads throughout my body. I feel this depression, as if it’s about to get bad again. I by no means want it to get bad again, that did not feel nice at all and I sure as hell don’t want to back to feeling that way. 

The two work together, the darkness inside eating away at my physical strength, my energy, making me dry heave all the time and the depression zapping at the last of my already fragile will. The one good thing that used to come of this is gone. The ability to use these feelings to write, to drown myself in my work but its gone. I can’t write poetry about this because that’s not what all my work is about. Beside the fact that I don’t want to be one of those sad poets it’s the fact that I can’t. I’d rather be a sad poet than not be a poet or writer at all but the words elude me. My work is half-assed a mediocre joke. I disgrace the great beat authors that I imitate by writing crap like this.

I see no bright future. I see no delusions of grandeur. I see no great writer, bestselling author. I see no meeting with Stephen King about working on a book together because he liked my work. I see no nomination for Nobel Prize in literature. I see no great world change because of my words but only my own funeral. Like a sad premonition, I see only my cold pale corpse in the black suit that held memories of one memorable night in high school. I see only my family crying, crying only because that is their obligation. Crying because that’s customary. Crying because that’s the least they can do for my sorry soul.

I see my death because that is my bright future. The sweet release of death. The weight off my shoulders. The miasma burned with the cursed bones I ingested at birth. My doomed tether finally cut from this cruel and beautiful world. Blissfully floating, an eternal morphine high. I feel free, smiling a real smile. Laugh hearty for the first time, experiencing the pleasurable sensations I yearned for in life. I paid my dues and this is my heaven. This one moment, this eternal moment. The future is see here is bright, bright like heavenly light, it shines in front of me. Anticipation not dread, I feel excitement. The great questions will be answered. The other shoe has dropped no more fearing impending doom. Who is God ?, Life’s great meaning? What’s my purpose? 

They don’t haunt me anymore instead they push me into the light, into its knowledge, into the next great adventure, no not next, new adventure. When I pass through that light I will be washed clean of everything, my sins, my beliefs, judgment, intolerance and most importantly my being. The strong opinions I once loved and loathed will be gone. My insecurities will be gone. My hatred and love �" gone. My memories gone. I will be free, drowning in a sea of majesty, of all encompassing knowledge and purpose. I will have no questions, no needs, and no troubles. 

Final Fulfillment

That’s what my new life, my real life will be, my heaven, my afterlife, my Zion, my redemption, my remuneration for all the suffering and anguish in this world, my judgement day, my real era, my true birth, my second coming, my rapture, my purpose. 

That is why I foresee it.