I was temporarily away. Everything came to be too much, leaving me bedridden for a few days. I slept so much that my bed began to stink and my body began to rot, in a sense.
I really didn’t want to return. I had left behind a huge mess, thinking that I was finally going to exit for good and consequently avoid it.
But, unfortunately, I’m still here. My method was poorly carried out that Wednesday morning.
So, fine. Physically, I’m here. I’m present. On this planet, I have mass.
Spiritually, though, I’m gone. I’m away. I’m not “beyond”, but I am absent.
When I came back the next week, a few people asked me, half jokingly, “Did you die?”
“Yes,” I responded flatly. They interpreted that supposed “joke” as my nonexistent death occurring the previous week. However, what I meant was that I died a long time ago. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment in which it happened, but I know that it absolutely did.
I feel it. I feel that I am dead and away.
Spiritually, I’m a fucking corpse, and it’s just a matter of time before I make that the case physically.