Someone Close to Me Died and I’m Just Like, ‘Whatever, Universe!’

I’m done with life. Officially.

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Once upon a time, an unbelievably tragic and sudden death occurred. No happy ending was in sight. But life apparently had to go on anyway.

A young-ish, beautiful, perfect person was taken away from the Earth plane and from opportunities for their physical existence to spread joy, turning hope immediately into darkness. Happiness had been achieved apparently just so it could be yanked away.

This person died, passed into spirit form, and I found myself promptly wishing I was also dead because, let’s face it, nobody wants to live in a dumb universe like this one. People die, sure, but under such horribly, karmically ironic, and unexpected circumstances? No. That wasn’t fair.

Instead of wishing I was dead, it occurred to me that I might be okay if I was allowed to live inside Disney World forever.

Sarcasm and cynicism set in for me. Spirit told me I needed to keep laughing. The deceased that are still with us in non-physical form want us to keep things light. It’s how we heal. It’s how I keep my sanity. (That hasn’t been fully confirmed yet.)

So, my depression turned into laughter about how annoying the universe is. I started losing all faith in miracles. I wondered about the point of living and wished every day for a dump truck to run me over. I am still doing that.

I felt like a voice was telling me, “And what have we learned today children? Let’s review this episode of life on Earth: life is horrible and we’re all being punished for past life things we aren’t even aware of.”

I felt like a fraud for all my writing to this point about the laws of the universe — as if I know how to manifest happiness? Nah.

I laugh at darkness. I laugh at fear. I laugh at the fact that I feel empty. Laughter at my own depression is the only joy that I have these days.

Nothing seems to matter anymore, so who even cares?

I’m going to go curl up in my bed again and wait to die.