the threads in her head

1.

Where to next? It was a question that hit with a nauseating blow, like a sand bag falling into the soft fats of the stomach, dead solid, yet seemingly soft, leaving a tingling numbing sensation - mildly uncomfortable, yet not.

There was noise in the classroom, high squeals and laugher, the excited chatter of people sharing their tales of the weekend, but, what were they really? What did it all boil down to?

Emptiness, emptiness. All was raging emptiness, the swirling chaos of nothing. For how could it compare to the expanse of time that stretched ahead, the eternity that'll be spent in heaven.

Or hell.

2.

I was having difficulty breathing. Again.

Usually I get scared, a little panicky, but today I was less.

I could not decide whether to rest or not. I was tired. Rest seemed to be a respite I could be grateful for, a way to indulge myself, a break, a pause, a chance to slow down. But sleep felt alarming. Would I not lose control when I sleep? All that would keep me breathing would be my subconscious mind. And maybe it'll just stop, you know? And I'll slip away without even realising. Others do the realisation. At least while I was still awake, conscious and aware, I could take charge. Conscious, purposeful breathing.

In, 2, 3, 4, Out, 2, 3, 4, In, 2...

It hurt to breathe in so deeply, for there was a tight pressure around my chest, pressing at my heart. But I did it nevertheless. One breath at a time.

The pain came and went. Came and went.

3.

Sometimes I wonder exactly where I would go after Death. Heaven? Hell? I think I believe in their existence. Never questioned it before. Never really needed to. All the "how is it possible/what about other possibility/you never really know" questions thrown by doubters were just further speculation after all no?

But where would I go for eternity?

I used to be sure. That was when I was a child. May not sure, sure, but the possibility of going to hell never really came to mind. Then as I grew older, the possibility dawned on me.

I don't think I will. But the question lingers. And some others. Like, guilt. Would I feel guilt that I managed to be in Heaven and others didn't. Even if it wasn't of my own hand? Or the nagging voice that I haven't done enough? Or embarrassment? Perhaps, even inferiority? Shyness, feelings of being socially awkward?

But they always say our imagination can't imagine the full splendor, wonder and glory of heaven. I guess we'll have to leave it at that.