“War is not hell. Hell is a thousand wars and sufferings, a thousand loves and losses. Hell is eternity. Ever expanding, never ending. I live in hell; I live in eternity. I have seen empires built and crumble. I have witnessed the rise and fall of monarchies. I have lived through the creation of relics and religions and watched them fade to obscurity. There will always be another war.
Hell is not other people, either. Other people are the flashes of life and time, when both have lost their meaning. When there is no end in sight and decades mean nothing, love and friendship are how you mark your time. They make eternity a little more bearable. Even though you know they will inevitably leave you.
Which is why it is always both sad and beautiful when people from all walks of life gather together to mourn the loss of someone, we all knew. All loved. Someone who in their own way shaped our lives. And while I will envy his peace, the rest and solace he finds in the eternal sleep that continues to elude me, I know he will be in a better place. A place free from senseless war and needless violence. And now, a moment of silence.” I bowed my head in reverence to my lost friend, the good soul that was moving on to some new, grander adventure.
“Oh, my god! Are you quite finished,” a voice chimes out through the silence, the figure moves closer as she continues to speak, “I mean, it was just a fish. And you give basically the same eulogy every time one of them dies. Fish die. They only live like five years. Get a tortoise! It will outlive me and spare me from hearing this speech again. I get it, immortality sucks, boohoo! Can you just flush him already? I have to get ready for work. And I’m not telling my boss I was late because I was held up by a fish’s funeral.”
I turned to my friend and roommate, Georgia, who is not a morning person, and spoke as calmly as possible so as not to provoke her, “seeing as how you killed him, do you think you could be more respectful at Mackerelmore’s funeral?”
“Uh, excuse you, I didn’t start a pillow fight right next to his tank. You did. Also, you’re like 500 years older than me, maybe you should grow up.” She rebukes pushing past me to turn on the shower. Which is not entirely false. It was my fault the fight started.
But- “you dealt the final blow that knocked him off the table and out the window. What a sad way to go. Fish were just not meant to fly.” And with that, she flushes Mackrelmore down the toilet, without even breaking eye contact with me.
Good bye, fish friend. You will be remembered well for all of my eternity.
Hell is not other people, either. Other people are the flashes of life and time, when both have lost their meaning. When there is no end in sight and decades mean nothing, love and friendship are how you mark your time. They make eternity a little more bearable. Even though you know they will inevitably leave you.
Which is why it is always both sad and beautiful when people from all walks of life gather together to mourn the loss of someone, we all knew. All loved. Someone who in their own way shaped our lives. And while I will envy his peace, the rest and solace he finds in the eternal sleep that continues to elude me, I know he will be in a better place. A place free from senseless war and needless violence. And now, a moment of silence.” I bowed my head in reverence to my lost friend, the good soul that was moving on to some new, grander adventure.
“Oh, my god! Are you quite finished,” a voice chimes out through the silence, the figure moves closer as she continues to speak, “I mean, it was just a fish. And you give basically the same eulogy every time one of them dies. Fish die. They only live like five years. Get a tortoise! It will outlive me and spare me from hearing this speech again. I get it, immortality sucks, boohoo! Can you just flush him already? I have to get ready for work. And I’m not telling my boss I was late because I was held up by a fish’s funeral.”
I turned to my friend and roommate, Georgia, who is not a morning person, and spoke as calmly as possible so as not to provoke her, “seeing as how you killed him, do you think you could be more respectful at Mackerelmore’s funeral?”
“Uh, excuse you, I didn’t start a pillow fight right next to his tank. You did. Also, you’re like 500 years older than me, maybe you should grow up.” She rebukes pushing past me to turn on the shower. Which is not entirely false. It was my fault the fight started.
But- “you dealt the final blow that knocked him off the table and out the window. What a sad way to go. Fish were just not meant to fly.” And with that, she flushes Mackrelmore down the toilet, without even breaking eye contact with me.
Good bye, fish friend. You will be remembered well for all of my eternity.
