Tom stood in a subway car. He was looking out the window at nothing while clutching onto a rail. There was a man sitting beside him looking distant. Tom imagined the man pulling a carving knife from his jacket pocket. Then he imagined that knife stabbing Tom twice, once in the heart. Then Tom imagined himself saying goodbye to everyone he ever knew. He imagined himself thinking that he should have written a note to all those people in case he was ever stabbed on a train. Then he rewound his thoughts. He began writing the letter in his head.

“This is a letter to everyone always.

I want you all to know that dying was an incredible experience. I was completely ready for it. It doesn’t hurt a bit and I feel great. If you’re fond of sleep then you’re gonna love this even more. My last moments were incredible and I said goodbye to you all. It was glorious. Just remember: If I can do it, you can too.

P.S. Heaven doesn’t exist, but wherever I am it’s really fun. They have jumping castles.”

He decided the sentiment was right but the words were not. He wanted everyone to know what will happen always would. He imagined everyone at his funeral enjoying themselves except for the people who didn’t get it. He imagined trees that had lived before anyone he might have known, and would live for longer than they ever could. He imagined the world decaying beyond repair. He imagined the universe expanding. He imagined lots of things. Then the train stopped and he left the subway car. Then he forgot to imagine. And lost it all forever.

10/5/09 -- New York > Writing -- 0 Comments