Beingless

Beingless. I floated with neither mass nor care over...a body? Was that what it was? A pale girl lay on a hospital gurney being rushed to medical attention. She looked vaguely familiar, like a pale and frail memory teetering upon the edge of her own existence; she looked shrunken and cadaverous, as though she were trying to curl in upon herself and simply cease to be. I could not feel bad for this girl, and instead I was irritated at her. My soul was blissfully weightless and I felt as if I could float away like a balloon that would never pop, but would instead rise past skies and celestial matter until I reached that unending darkness, that sweet state of no longer being.

I did not do this. The essence of my soul agonized and beat against an invisible roof to no avail, and so I watched this scene playing below me.

“She’s stable.” Announced a doctor

“By a close call. How much blood did she lose?” Asked another.

“A lot.”

It was true. Those hospital gurney sheets were stained a velvety red like a vibrant flower, and at the center was that morose thing who was beginning to look more and more foreign to me. I watched the doctors feed life back into it, and with rage and dejection and despair all at once I felt myself deflating. I was heavy, I was weighted down. Down, down into that unearthly creature that was a dead white core surrounded by scarlet petals. My weight was suddenly overbearing.