Welcome to the afterlife, folks! Or, as you like to call it, “life.” Hate to break it to you, but you’re not alive. You’ve been dead since the day you were born. That whole thing about birth being the beginning of life? Yeah, no. It was your cosmic funeral procession. The doctor didn’t deliver you; they buried you in existence. You’re not living — you’re decomposing slowly, one mortgage payment at a time.
The Big Cosmic Switcheroo
Here’s the kicker: everything you think you know about life and death is a lie. Birth isn’t your grand entrance into the world; it’s your exit from the infinite, blissful void. That warm, peaceful nothingness? That’s where you came from. And Death? That’s your ticket back to the VIP lounge.
Think about it: the moment you were born, people started marking the countdown to your “death.” Your age is literally just a tally of how long you’ve been rotting away. Balloons, cake, and candles every year? That’s not a celebration — it’s a deathiversary. Blow out those candles, champ; you’ve officially survived another lap around the slow spiral into entropy!
Living is Just Dying in Slow Motion
Let’s get real: everything about “life” screams decay. Your body? Falling apart from day one. Your hairline? Retreating faster than your hope for the future. Your dreams? Withering like a houseplant you forgot to water. Even the sun, that giant ball of optimism in the sky, is burning itself out. The universe doesn’t care about you; it’s a giant funeral pyre, and we’re all just riding the flames.
And let’s not forget the ultimate irony: we spend this so-called “life” trying to escape death. Jogging, kale smoothies, wellness retreats — they’re just ways to delay the inevitable. You’re like a hamster on a wheel, except the wheel is made of existential dread, and the finish line is the grave.
Death: Your Real Birthday Party
When you “die,” guess what? That’s not the end — it’s the start of the real party. Think of it as graduation day, except instead of a cap and gown, you get eternal rest. No more bills, no more awkward small talk, no more trying to figure out what “synergy” means at work. Death is liberation! It’s the cosmic reboot, a one-way ticket back to the infinite void where you don’t have to pretend to care about your cousin’s MLM skincare hustle.
And here’s the plot twist: every near-death experience isn’t a “close call.” It’s a reminder that the door is always open. People talk about seeing “the light” during these experiences. Of course, you saw the light — that’s the exit sign.
What Does It All Mean?
If birth is death and death is birth, what’s the point of all this mess in between? Simple: there is no point. The universe is a cosmic middle school talent show — chaotic, embarrassing, and painfully unnecessary. We’re all just here to pass the time until the big curtain call.
But hey, there’s some good news: since you’re technically already dead, nothing really matters. Bills? Just ghost them. Jobs? You’re haunting your cubicle anyway. Relationships? You’re both specters clinging to the illusion of connection.
Final Thoughts from the Afterlife
So, congratulations on being dead! Life (or whatever you want to call this existential dumpster fire) is just a prolonged audition for the void. The real peace comes when you finally drop this charade and return to the infinite nothingness. Until then, enjoy the show. Or don’t. You’re dead — it’s not like it matters.
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Chris “It Seemed Funny in My Head” Conidis
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