Shot awake

I’ve decided I must be immortal. Think about it, it’s been 24 years and I haven’t died once. Nothing existed before me. The 80s are a lie, everybody conceivably older than me are just acting that way and every baby is an empty flab of fake.
When I reach old age science will have invented the anti-ageing pill and I’ll be anti-ageing until I’m 15 again, whereupon I will reinstate my support of the ageing process. This is the only logical explanation for life.
Every now and then I have this dream in which I’m shot. I’m always a complete badass in this dream, smirking when the mystery character gets their gun out. I’m as calm as James Bond preparing to have his balls chopped off, although I have no witty banter. So I’m shot and then the game-over screen from Mario appears accompanied by the tune you hear when you die in this other game called Dynasty Warriors. Then, darkness. When I’m dead it’s inevitable I’ll start reflecting back on the event in my head like every dead person must do: ’See, I was right – there’s nothing to this death lark’ and I’m happy. Slightly cocky, in fact. Then I awake.
’Dammit,’ I cry, ’I’m still alive and everything is still a mystery.’
You see I’m pretty sure there’s nothing awaiting me after I finish my messing around on planet Earth. But if I discover I’m right – there is no afterlife, good or bad – I won’t be alive to brag about it, and if I’m wrong I guess I’m in deep shit and won’t feel up to celebrating.
It’s pointless, isn’t it? This post is pointless.

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