The Angel of Death by Evelyn Pickering De Morgan
Have you ever fantasized about death? I have. Don't judge me, I’m not suicidal. It's just that the fact that that is that only event in my life I’m certain about—it will happen—makes me wonder how it will be. Some describe death as "a journey into the unknown", to another life perhaps, another world. I wonder if I will still be able to watch this world, as an unnoticed, uninvolved ghost perhaps. How will it be to see my body lie there still with people crying around me? Will I feel upset or will I be devoid of emotion? Will I finally know why I was on earth in that now-lifeless body I was always so obsessed about?
I guess that’s when I’ll also finally discover whether I have a second chance to reincarnated or if it’s one lifecycle per soul. I hope to meet my creator finally. I have a lot of complaints about my body that I would like to voice.
Supposing we can’t access this world anymore after we die, where would we go after this? Where does our soul go? What are we working so hard for in this world anyway?—will we know, or is it all ultimately pointless?- Obsessed with money, looks, simple immaterial things—will all these even matter then? Are we fools shielding out eyes from beyond the obviousness of the universe?
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