[07.25.2026]
DEATH
Before I broke up with my phone, I had my cards read. So much is defined by algorithms and statistical models; I needed something tangible, something analog, to remind me of my physicality. “May the spirits of the room guide your journey through the Universe”, I imagined my bohemian Mother blessing as I drew the top card:
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DEATH
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I wish I had told her about the heartache or my one-sided love to begin with. In fact, I realized that I hadn't spoken to her in a while; I hadn't spoken to anyone in a while. Besides reposting memes and cat photos on my private Instagram story, I had almost completely disappeared. I was already on my deathbed.
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Like a sleeper agent, I assassinated my online presence. It was quick and relatively painless to delete Instagram and TikTok and Snapchat, and all of those dating apps. What I didn’t expect, however, was how little of myself remained. I used to wear my digital self-perception like haute couture: nitpicking every seam and ensuring the tiles of my Instagram page complemented all those adjacent. Begrieved, I cocooned myself in bedsheets, preparing for transformation. In my stasis, I reflected on my past life and my current death.
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Once I accepted death, I haunted the park bench for a while and watched the little black ants eat a dead rat frying on the stovetop-pavement path. I watched the panting golden doodles and afghan hounds and bedlington terriers on the verge of combustion, perk with curiosity from the ants’ chatty pheromones: chemical dinner bells for both parties involved. One by one, I watched them guide their screen-bound toddlers with poise, the way they were bred to do. One by one, I watched the owners come to and pull away in disgust when confronted with the blatant biology. Except for a dalmatian, who successfully heisted the rodent in exchange for his saliva-encrusted duck toy. I gagged a little, then chuckled, then gagged a little more. The ants dispersed from the once-loved stuffed duck, which now lay abandoned. Unexpectedly, this interaction made me quite emotional. It reminded me of my death and what I had given up to experience the rat. More importantly, I realized that there is greater life in death than my life before dying.
ㅤ
DEATH
ㅤ
I wish I had told her about the heartache or my one-sided love to begin with. In fact, I realized that I hadn't spoken to her in a while; I hadn't spoken to anyone in a while. Besides reposting memes and cat photos on my private Instagram story, I had almost completely disappeared. I was already on my deathbed.
ㅤ
Like a sleeper agent, I assassinated my online presence. It was quick and relatively painless to delete Instagram and TikTok and Snapchat, and all of those dating apps. What I didn’t expect, however, was how little of myself remained. I used to wear my digital self-perception like haute couture: nitpicking every seam and ensuring the tiles of my Instagram page complemented all those adjacent. Begrieved, I cocooned myself in bedsheets, preparing for transformation. In my stasis, I reflected on my past life and my current death.
ㅤ
Once I accepted death, I haunted the park bench for a while and watched the little black ants eat a dead rat frying on the stovetop-pavement path. I watched the panting golden doodles and afghan hounds and bedlington terriers on the verge of combustion, perk with curiosity from the ants’ chatty pheromones: chemical dinner bells for both parties involved. One by one, I watched them guide their screen-bound toddlers with poise, the way they were bred to do. One by one, I watched the owners come to and pull away in disgust when confronted with the blatant biology. Except for a dalmatian, who successfully heisted the rodent in exchange for his saliva-encrusted duck toy. I gagged a little, then chuckled, then gagged a little more. The ants dispersed from the once-loved stuffed duck, which now lay abandoned. Unexpectedly, this interaction made me quite emotional. It reminded me of my death and what I had given up to experience the rat. More importantly, I realized that there is greater life in death than my life before dying.