The Art of Dying

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Growing up I always wondered what it would be like to die. I dunno I guess I thought it would be much more exciting and dramatic or something then it really is. But then again the several times I died I only died for seconds to minutes so who’s to say I actually got the whole big shebang. I sure hope not. Maybe I just got the commercial preview and not the actual cinematic production.
I had several near death experiences, they were wonderful and i'll hold some near and dear to my heart but it wasn't like a big cinematic event. I was expecting to be Robin Williams in "What dreams may Come" But it was simple.I’ve always thought trumpets should be blazing, thousands of people I have no memory of and ancestors from centuries past should be there to greet me with flowers and heavenly gifts. There should be a party in my honor and for a good hour or so I should be the center of attention and queen of the party; tiara wearing and all.I don’t think that’s the case anymore, in fact I don’t think it’s even close. I bet when you die, you experience the illusion of light brought to you by the great nerves going off like fireworks in your brain. Then you sit up out of your body, look back, think to yourself ‘gosh darn it, I sure was a sexy beast’ then pow! You’re in heaven.A couple key players would be there to greet you but it’s no big tah-do, then you’re immediately put to work.I’ve never understood why people think once someone dies, the dead go back to their own funeral to watch. I personally have already experienced my life, I don’t need an inflated optimistic summary of it. I think I’d fall asleep and drool all over my wings. That is assuming that I already earned them.I bet I have. Earned my wings I mean. I’m a pretty fantastic girl I think. Or at least that’s what a pompous self-righteous dogmatist told me yesterday. He said I had an over exaggerated view of myself as far as my saintly-hood goes. I may think I’m sexy but I do not think I’m a saint. I don’t share my Oreo’s enough to be a saint. But just to be safe I asked my shrink and she agreed, I am not a pompous narcissist.
I really hope God let’s me come back and haunt people on my breaks. I think I’d hide a lot of shoes. I like the idea of messing with the thermostat so that people sweat once they see their electric bill. Isn’t that ironic, sweating while looking at the bill for excessive air conditioning? Gosh I’m funny. Or just really tired.I hope heavens cold. I hate the heat, but maybe that’s just because my P.O.T.S. makes it so I’m an over worked farmer. By the way, holla at my peeps over there in the fields, you deserve way more then you’re getting paid! Keep bringing on my tomatoes, I’d die without them.
That would really suck if that’s how I died after all. Here I am spending all my money on hospital bills and over priced medication and then I die from shortage of tomatoes. Just my luck. I knew I’d die from something stupid.My dream way of dying would be slamming into a large gas tanker after a long high speed chase. Preferably with a psychotic super spy, not the police… I’m terrified of having a record. The huge explosion and thrill of the chase would make the whole dying thing much more entertaining and less of a bummer.But alas I’ll probably die because of tomatoes. Tragic, I was such a lovely person....I really shouldn't write these when i'm this exhausted.

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