My eyes opened in a dark enclosure, one barely large enough for my body to fit. I lay down with my back pressed down. I wasn’t bothered, since I didn’t remember ever being claustrophobic. I simply pushed forward.

I don’t know exactly how to describe it, I’m not sure however I do would even help you understand what it was like. I had braced myself for the impact when my body made contact with whatever was in front of me, but I never felt it. Instead I moved through it, and the ground above it, till I found myself standing.
Only my knees upward was visible to me, with the rest of my legs in the floor. I panicked and jumped in an attempt to pull out my legs, at least I tried to, but I found myself floating.
“I’m sorry.” She snifled as she said it. I found myself looking up, at a girl standing in front of me as she spoke; Quite a number of people were sitted in rows and columns behind her. It was Ajoke, and I didn’t understand why she would be sorry for anything; she lived her life to make me feel like I was worth nothing.
Then an image came into my head; more appropriately a memory. I remembered drinking bleach, clutching at my throat as I gasped vainly for help; I remembered trying to scream with no words coming out; I remembered the regret at ending my own life. Now there was no regret.
I focused once more on what Ajoke was saying. “…Forgive me. You were one of the most amazing people I ever met, such a pure soul taken from us so quickly. No matter what anyone said to you, your gentle nature always let it go.”
I rolled my eyes at her, I felt them literally rolling as I looked into my transparent skull. Of course I kept quiet no matter what they said, talking would’ve only made my plight worse.
She said a lot of other things that bore me: How I had such a bright future, how she wondered what made me kill myself, etc.
A lot of other people said things they didn’t really mean. I tried to punch one guy, but my hand just passed through him; a shiver was the only sign that I had apparently made contact with him.
Then the few people that actually treated me well talked, hoping I was in a better place and all of that; I almost felt sad. I tried to tell them I was fine, as fine as ghosts could be, but no one could hear anything I said.
When my siblings and parents talked, I almost couldn’t bear it at all. My mother, who was always so calm and composed, thrashed around as she screamed. It hurt me that there was nothing I could do for her, no way to talk to her.
Then it was her turn. Pain, sadness, anger, regret, a million emotions flooded through me. It felt different from when I still lived, like I could only feel a fraction of what I could have before.
She didn’t talk much. She just talked about how my death was a loss to everyone, something she would never forget and hoping I was in a better place. At least she didn’t lie. I didn’t know how I knew, but I felt the truth in her words. I felt her guilt, her sorrow, how she blamed herself.
It hadn’t mattered when everyone had said I was worthless, but the final words I heard were hers; When she said I would never become much after I had confessed my love for her.
I knew she would never forget me. Even worse, I felt her guilt that she would carry for the rest of her life.

P.S. I do NOT support suicide, and this is no assurance that death isn’t succeeded by oblivion or heaven/hell. Thank you for reading.

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