When you die, you hear this ringing in your ears. Your mind completely shuts off, you pass out, and go limp. Although it is the day you feared the most in your entire life, you feel eerily calm. Peaceful. Still. The world simply passes you by as you wait for something more, nothingness or Heaven. And then the memories come back, appearing in front of you as your blood stops circulating. No matter what some people have told you, they don’t come rushing back, like the time you tried to swim through the waves on the beach, but ended up tumbling backwards and being pulled under, but slow and steady, like you’re watching a movie. You’re now thinking about art and all forms of entertainment, how literature and music and dance and sculpture and any kind of artistry were made for expression and rebellion. When thinking about rebellion, you think of governments and America gaining her independence and European history and the conquistadors and matter-of-fact every moment in history, and realize how little your life was. You never got to travel to every country, talk to every person, learn every skill, or even skydive, but you’re okay with this. You remember listening to your favorite song for the first time, jaw-dropping and stopping everything you were doing. You remember every person you’ve ever loved, your friends you never got to say goodbye to, your parents who you wished had been nicer and wished you had been too, the image of your future child who never existed, but you guessed one day might. You think about how you never won the lottery, but were lucky in all the experiences you had won. You remember driving with your friend, not best friend, since you didn’t like making a hierarchy of people you loved, and driving her black Jeep up the mountain to watch the stars. As your body feels icily cold now, you remember watching the sunrise that morning, drifting up, towards the horizon, into the peach-colored sky.
Mar 14
Mar 14, 2026 at 12:00 AM UTC
When you die, you hear this ringing in your ears. Your mind completely shuts off, you pass out, and go limp. Although it is the day you feared the most in your entire life, you feel eerily calm. Peaceful. Still. The world simply passes you by as you wait for something more, nothingness or Heaven. And then the memories come back, appearing in front of you as your blood stops circulating. No matter what some people have told you, they don’t come rushing back, like the time you tried to swim through the waves on the beach, but ended up tumbling backwards and being pulled under, but slow and steady, like you’re watching a movie. You’re now thinking about art and all forms of entertainment, how literature and music and dance and sculpture and any kind of artistry were made for expression and rebellion. When thinking about rebellion, you think of governments and America gaining her independence and European history and the conquistadors and matter-of-fact every moment in history, and realize how little your life was. You never got to travel to every country, talk to every person, learn every skill, or even skydive, but you’re okay with this. You remember listening to your favorite song for the first time, jaw-dropping and stopping everything you were doing. You remember every person you’ve ever loved, your friends you never got to say goodbye to, your parents who you wished had been nicer and wished you had been too, the image of your future child who never existed, but you guessed one day might. You think about how you never won the lottery, but were lucky in all the experiences you had won. You remember driving with your friend, not best friend, since you didn’t like making a hierarchy of people you loved, and driving her black Jeep up the mountain to watch the stars. As your body feels icily cold now, you remember watching the sunrise that morning, drifting up, towards the horizon, into the peach-colored sky.
lowk prose but wtv