A Ghost-less World

This is not just another moment but the final hour of your finite life. This is the hour where all things start to make sense in their senseless, jumbled ways. This is that penultimate moment when you will chase the speed of light and arrest the flow of time by the bedside at your deathbed.

First, it will dawn on you that there were recurring patterns throughout your life. You had found love and been hurt the same way a dozen of times. People started from the same point and marched through the same alleyway to reach you. After some iterations, you started having inklings of how things were going to end, and your hunches would be proven right in the meantime. However, none of these experiences made you stop stepping onto the ticking bomb. Even at this final moment you will not have clairvoyance as to whether these patterns were just uncontrolled impulses or survival instincts forged during the battles of your earlier years or a mixture of both.

When you fail to resolve this existential issue to have a final measure of the meaning of the life you lived, you will try to recalibrate your life by editing the conditions in which your life happened. The first few conditions you think of are ancestry, society, parents, and the family to which you belonged. The conditions, you realize soon, become so numerous and entangled that there is no point in reimagining how your life would have turned out if you changed a couple of parameters.

By the time you are in the final breaths of your life, you would have, hopefully, also encountered…