JARI

For Hashim,
Losing you has made me stronger,
and I can’t cease to hope being able
to share things with you once again.
Although we can’t do it in this life, 
perhaps we can in the next.

Friends and family,
Thank you for carrying a part of the weight with me.
You helped me go on when I myself  thought I couldn’t.

Alice, Noora and Radu,
Thank you for all the honest feedback.

There was nothing.
I felt nothing. 
Nothing at all. 

It was as if I could only see and hear, yet there was little to stimulate those senses. Everything in my body was numb like a cold breeze had killed every sensation in it and my vision was hazy like I had just woken up to a blinding brightness of summer dawn. It was then that I noticed I was walking. It struck me, and at first it felt involuntary. I eventually reassured myself that I indeed did play a part in it. There was really no use of walking, as far as I could convince myself, but there really seemed to be no reason to stop either. It was disturbingly quiet. Surrounded by the purest whiteness I had ever seen, that stretched out for what seemed like perpetuity, I could only assume that I had been walking for quite a while. And still, my feet kept on going. Perhaps I could keep at this forever and never become exhausted. What was this place?

My body was in a strange state. I reached to touch my face, and while doing so I recalled a sensation of being battered. This recollection somehow took me somewhere else, just for a fraction of a second, out of this dream like state. Out of my body even. However, neither my fingers nor my face felt anything. Pain or otherwise. I moved my tongue around my mouth in an attempt to taste my breath. I thought that I wasn’t breathing. That couldn’t have been right, surely. In a flustered state I grabbed my chest and in a blink of an eye my walking came to a complete and sudden stop.

Again, there was nothing.
Not even a heartbeat.
Was I dead?

My mind was tumultuous and staying calm was impossible. Just like a rush of blood to the head, a complete and utter panic took over. A kind I had never experienced before. There were so many questions, but no one to turn to. My body became distant. Nothing but a mere vessel for my consciousness. I was drowning. Suddenly a dread of not being able to escape this took over. I felt weak, insignificant and alone. Like a single grain of sand in a vast desert, entrapped with nothing but the discomfort of my thoughts. And what does that leave me with?

Faith? No.
Hope? Maybe.
Love? Yes, there will always be love.

I was a bundle of emotions that I couldn’t properly convey, bottled up and without a remedy.
“I’m not making any sense… I need to think, I need to remember.”
So I closed my eyes, and suddenly, I remembered.

It’s early July and the sky is just the perfect shade of blue, as it should be. A subtle gradient of blues that welcome the roast of the summer sun between the white and fluffy cumuli. The KLM commercial flight is slowly approaching Helsinki. A bird’s eye view through a small window next to a window seat and I’m looking down on Finland in all its glory. I think we are about to land soon.

Being born here, it’s great. Almost like a jackpot. The kind of privilege you only get from your mother’s milk. Otherwise it's semi-skimmed, half-assed; not the real deal. This idea of our greatness is something deeply rooted into our DNA. You would have to see it for yourself to believe it. However, we can be quite miserable too, more so than happy if you ask me. My theory is that all the grandeur that we believe to be a part of being a Finn has to be compensating for a lack of something. Why are we miserable, one might ask. I guess it's somehow easier to feel alive through melancholy instead of good old pure, sincere and almost childlike joy. Maybe we believe that that’s just how it’s supposed to be? Maybe it's the weather? Or maybe we just find solace in different things? We are a truly unique folk in so many ways, but happiness isn’t one of them. That’s just good PR.

I took a very deep breath and sighed very loudly. Like I wanted someone to hear my frustration. Then I took notice that my thoughts had been side tracked. Now where was I? It all came back to me as soon as I looked down at the tray table in front of me. It carried my fancy red moleskin that I had gotten as a present from my previous mother-in-law a few years back. It was still waiting to be filled with documentation of my “endless stream of ideas”. Oh yes, I was brainstorming...

I had booked this trip to get away from the norm and help myself with my writing. However, I found myself amidst weird jitters, a hangover and absolutely nothing besides a few doodles in my notebook. Oh and yes, the remorse! This little visit to western Europe was a means to an end, but not the end I initially planned for... Knowing that a perfect cure was waiting for me in my flat kept me going strong and not losing my mind. The cure was a secret and an almost sick yearning I had for something I couldn’t socially embrace, a frustration to want something so desperately but needing to be alone to have it, so as not to be judged by others.

There was an elderly Finnish couple, a man and his wife, sitting right next to my left. The man was doing crosswords with his tongue out for concentration and his glasses sitting low on his nose. It was exactly something my grandfather would have done. And when asked about whether the tongue was out of his mouth out of necessity he would let out a manly giggle and say “Sometimes the answers are at the tip of my tongue and I try to read them off of it!” The woman was reading a Scandinavian detective story, so typical. I never got into them. Detective stories I mean. To me they were all one and the same and the thrill seemed all too gratuitous.

These demographically designed seats were not fit for my build. The only way to find comfort was to lean my throbbing temple against the tiny window, which cooled my head down from the hangover glow. I was wiping sweat off my brow with the back of my hand and tried to concentrate on my breathing to distract myself from the pain. As I was doing so, from the corner of my eye, I saw an appealing dutch flight attendant who would have exactly what I needed: “Excuse me. Could I get a Heineken, please?”, I said whilst trying to hide my desperation. “But of course sir!” She replied with a smile so sincere she could have fooled almost anyone that she didn’t, in fact, hate her occupation in the sky.

As the flight attendant passed me the green bottle, of what I thought was a shortcut to a pair of steadier hands, I noticed her name tag read Lotte. I said my thanks to her, my eyes still fixed on the beer, and as I lifted my eyes to give her an affectionate smile in return she had already moved on to the next passenger. I put down the bottle in its allocated slot on the tray, that little embossed circle on the top right corner, and turned to look out the window again. I took a sip here and there and made a “tsk” sound out of annoyance every time, because I had realised – perhaps too late – that I didn’t enjoy Heineken.

“Cabin crew, prepare for landing.” Oh well, enough of that. I’ll pack away my stuff, I’m home.

“Dear passengers, welcome to Helsinki airport. It is a beautiful and warm day with +24°C and a rather clear sky. We will taxi for a brief moment and we ask you to please remain seated until we are at the gate and the seat belt sign has turned off. We hope you’ve enjoyed the flight. On behalf of the entire cabin crew and KLM airlines I hope you have a pleasant stay at Helsinki, or that your connecting flight will go smoothly.”

It’s not like anyone ever listens to the captain. As soon as the plane has landed and decelerated to a speed at which one can stand without holding on to anything, most passengers will be up already, never mind the seat belt sign. During moments like these I tend to scream internally due to a lack of patience for such foolery and inefficiency.

I always felt that the plane should be emptied with the guidance of the cabin crew and with proper diligence, one row at a time, instead of laws of the jungle where the smoothness of the operation relied solely on individual acts of kindness. 

The passengers were now walking out. I got up just a bit too early, forced to stand with my neck bent almost at a 90 degree angle, below the overhead compartment. I made a “tsk” sound, this time for my own stupidity.

Once I got to the aisle, all would be well, since I always travelled light. I could walk right out of the plane and pass the baggage claim, with light steps and a wide smile upon my face. I was too impatient to stand there and wait with the rest of the passengers. As soon as I made it out through the main entrance I lit a cigarette. “The outside air was too toxic not to breathe it in through a filter.” I thought to myself, and a bit of laughter came out loud. After I had found a decent place to get some sun on my face, not too many paces towards the pick up point, I saw a big banner advertising the Helsinki regional transportation system: “Welcome to HEL.” Apparently I wasn’t the only funny guy around.

It was typical of me to forget sunglasses on a sunny day, and also to be too proud to buy a cheap pair when this had happened. So instead I was content to suffer just a little bit. Not only did my eyes suffer, but so did my lower back. These weren’t directly related, but travelling would always take a toll on me. I would hinge from my hips a tad backwards until I heard a loud pop and continued by lowering myself into a deep squat. “Exercise, I need to exercise” I told myself while looking like an idiot down on the floor, but boy did it feel good. I was coming to the end of my cigarette as I heard a familiar voice.

“What’re you squatting there for? Get in!”, It was Tapio beckoning to me from the pick up point with a wide smile on his face accompanied by perhaps the manliest giggle I knew. The kind that comes from your diaphragm. He had stepped out of the car, that was still running, and leant onto its roof. He had an old Toyota Carina. It was white. That was pretty much the extent I could go when discussing cars whereas Tapio could open a hood and have a complete understanding of the inner workings of any car. 

Finally I got up from the squat, way too fast, of course, and wobbled my way to the car with temporarily impaired vision. We both got into the front of the car almost simultaneously. As my vision had returned we exchanged greetings that culminated into a fist bump that had been perfected over many years.

Tapio and I were of the same age. He had light yellow hair, always covered with a cap, and the build of a short yet stocky lumberjack. All this was the result of years of manual labour. He would help out at his family business, moving all sorts of furniture around southern Finland, ever since he was just a kid.

He didn’t really have a fixed occupation, but would make a living out of a variety of jobs here and there. He could build and paint houses, fix apartments, gardens, cars and furniture. He was very smart and had academic potential, but being this type of a tradesman was a conscious decision which – at least for me – broke many stereotypes. This lifestyle didn’t seem like an intelligent man’s game. No two days were the same for Tapio, and I secretly always envied him for that.

The car was on the move and headed towards the highway. The interior was extremely well arranged and tidy, considering the amount of stuff he had on him at all times. Most of it was organised neatly in the trunk, but to me it was like a Batmobile with gadgets to get him out of any possible situation. The fabric was dark grey with white pinstripe patterns and the dashboard matched it with dark plastic that was warm to the touch. I had the habit of flicking the fan next to my window that would drive him up the walls. There was a time when he had to tell me to stop but now a mere look would suffice and I would lift my hands up in surrender.

I looked at Tapio with bouncing nods of approval. “Thanks for the ride.” I said in an appreciative manner. “No worries, it wasn't a hassle or anything.” Tapio replied with sincerity and followed up with a question “So… How was the trip? You get up to much or..?” Somehow he managed to catch me off guard, like I hadn’t expected questions about my trip, so I quickly put together a summary. “Yeah it was good. Amsterdam really is the place to be. I slept in, ate well, visited museums and sat in parks, reading and observing. You know, the usual.” My answer felt flat and generic. Lacking any sort of actual substance. My urges were getting worse and I really needed to get to my apartment. I was growing more and more impatient by the minute. I had to flick the car fan a couple of times, finger tap a manic rhythm on my thighs and fiddle with the window crank. Anything to make him not realise what I really wanted. However, Tapio seemed content with my summary of the trip and continued “Well... That sounds pretty good. I bet you got loads of writing done then?” He was too socially able not to have asked this on purpose, with an agenda to gently probe into my work with an aim to encourage me with it. “Umm…” I hesitated. “You know how it is. I didn’t really get anything polished but definitely a lot of raw material to work on.” This was a blatant lie, since all I’d done was get all sorts of high wherever I could and masturbate in my hotel room. “Well.. That’s good to hear man. You know, if you ever need someone to give you feedback I’d be more than happy to do that. I’m not much of a reader, and don’t know how much I could be of help but an extra pair of eyes can never hurt, right?”

This conversation started to bore me. I dragged both my palms across my face in a bit of a nervous manner and mumbled an approval to brush over the whole subject. Tapio must’ve realised that I got a bit uncomfortable so he was ready to move on as well.

“You know, Harri was asking if we are keen on catching up with him later today? We could go to your flat, drop your stuff, you can shower and whatnot, and then get going straight away. How does that sound?” Tapio had a talent and sometimes even an obsession with organising and optimising everything. And I really mean everything. He could dictate to me what to do to better myself, never crossing the line. His offer really was tempting, but I had something I had to do first. “Umm, sounds good but I think I’ll visit my brother today. I’ll join you guys right after if that’s fine?” He didn’t argue with that and agreed wholeheartedly.

Tapio dropped me off at my flat and headed straight to Harri’s. The lift was on the top floor, so I took the stairs. It teased me into my fix and the elevated feeling I knew I would soon be in. My feet felt weightless and I was energetic. I repeatedly told myself that there were just a few more steps and peace would find me. Although not the type of peace you find in a cup of hot chocolate but the chemical, jaw-bending, rush to the head type of peace instead.

My flat was a pretty average studio flat in the heart of Sörnäinen, right next to the subway station. The entrance was a small hallway that connected the studio room to the front door. Next to the door was a small coat rack with a few jackets. Under it is a small selection of shoes, all different types of VANS. A door on the left hand side, a few paces further, lead to the bathroom.

You could see straight into the room from the door. The actual living area created an L-shape when the small kitchenette to the left was taken into account. I had a double bed against the wall below a window straight ahead from the entrance. The TV was on the right hand side with a sofa facing it and a small table divided the space between the two. A cheap steel string Yamaha acoustic guitar was leaning against the wall next to the television. All the walls were white and empty, except for the STAR WARS and TERMINATOR 2 movie posters.

There were records, DVDs, novels, comic books and graphic novels lying around and in piles next to the bed. Cheap speakers that were connected to his TV. The sofa table had an ashtray, a metal box, spare change and a Macbook. I didn’t have too many things, because I liked to keep my flat generally tidy and organized. However, this was a subject for discussion, I had learnt that my idea of cleanliness didn’t necessarily match with everyone else’s. I could live with a bit more dust on the shelves than the next guy.

I went around the flat flicking on all extension cables and opening blinds to get some life into the room. I slightly cracked open the big window to get a gentle cool draft going in the room. Otherwise the flat would get infernally hot during the summer. I then quickly emptied my backpack from dirty laundry into the washing machine without turning it on and sat down onto the sofa accompanied with a long and thorough sigh. I was finally alone with my little secret. My entire body twitching and shaking as if I was taking part in foreplay. I felt inseparable from the drug, like ‘the precious’ for Gollum. We belonged together and it made me feel great even though I knew it would eventually devour me. It didn’t make me feel like it used to and I always believed that I had time to turn around and make the decision to part ways with it.

I then finally indulged myself with the contents of my sleek metallic stash and I felt just as good as I thought I would; The unstoppable feeling of physical and mental greatness, my brain rewarding me for just being myself and, out of the ordinary, seeing things in an opportunistic and positive light. Absolutely nothing could put me down, and it was all definitely worth the wait, despite the sweating and rapid heart rate.

After a quick shower, I was dressed and ready to leave. “Phone, keys, wallet.” I said to myself whilst tapping on the front and back pocket of my jeans. I felt most welcome to be back.

“Hey... It’s been a while. I wasn’t planning on coming here at first, but it wouldn’t have been right using you as an excuse.” I was having an inner monologue looking at an epitaph on a gravestone.

It belonged to my brother who had passed away from cancer a decade earlier. It all started from what seemed like harmless painful swelling on the bottom of his left foot, eventually leading to losing his left leg from the knee down and finally tumours all over his body. His final, morphine induced words to me were “draw everything bigger”. He died the next morning.

He was better than I was in every way and I felt like a mere shadow of his existence, trying to copy and impress. Our age difference had us quarrel childishly whenever the opportunity presented itself. Just as we were maturing and becoming closer, like true friends, he was gone. Just like that, it all ended so quickly. There were many things left unsaid and done and I hated the world for it.

I was still living with my parents back then, a half an hour’s drive north of Helsinki, in a modest yellow detached house that had a big garden that was my mother’s passion. This kind of space would only make sense in the countryside. Our home had four bedrooms, two toilets and a Sauna. The ladle to throw water onto the hot stones was a school project of mine, dating all the way back to primary school. I had chiseled the grip from birch wood for grip and burnt it for style. The twisted square metal rod was a fine detail that was glued onto the grip and welded onto the scoop I had beaten out myself. Seeing it would always take me back to times that were care-free.

My father woke me up that morning, sobbing and apologising “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” yet I didn’t exactly know what for. It was very early in the morning, but he was already wearing nice black jeans and a light blue shirt. I got up to sit at the edge of my bed, my eyes still coated thick with rheum that I rubbed off with haste, and embraced him. At first I thought he was simply worried and needed someone to turn to until he tightened his grip around me and whispered “I’m sorry, your brother is dead. Get dressed, we have to go to the hospital.” The memory of the car ride to the hospital was, up to this day, still only a haze.

At the hospital, when presented with his body, I noticed that his eyes weren’t properly closed. He was lying on a bed in a small white private room covered with thin white linen up to his shoulders. There were a few chairs, a small table, a tv hoisted up in the opposite corner of the room and a painting of a flower hanging above the bed. It was the end of summer and the most sublime sunrise was peeking it’s yellow head through the skyline and into the room. My family had sat together for a while, taking it all in, trying to comprehend what had happened. As we were finally making our way out I looked down on my brother and told them that I would like to stay a while longer, alone, to say my last goodbyes.

I stood by the bed and gently laid my hand on his head to caress his hair. I then leaned closer and gave a soft kiss onto his brow. Still looking down on him, I brushed my hand over his eyes slowly trying to close his eyelids to no avail. The stiffness of his corpse made it apparent on his face that he had died suffering. That morning was a struggle. I felt like a fragile sculpture and every moment was a chisel gnawing at my soul, and at that moment it was too much and my world crumbled into nothing.

I knew he wasn’t actually there at the cemetery. Six feet under, just his decomposing corpse that was probably already diminished into nothing but bones. A guitar pick with his name engraved on it was surely still there, that I knew for sure, because I had put it onto his coffin when he was being lowered down to the ground. A sudden gust of wind blew against my face. It made it difficult to know whether it was the wind or the pain that brought tears to my eyes. The pain. I could live with it but I really didn’t know how to deal with it. After a few quivers of my chin and I knew it was time to head on. Life felt utterly absurd.

“See you soon.”

I had loaded a song ready on my phone to play when Harri would open his apartment door. And as he did so, I was already playing my heart out on the air guitar. Just minutes after I had dipped into my “bustle bag” of powdered confidence. I was a tad nervous, because I didn’t want the guys to be able to tell that I was high, and regretted the fact that I had to boost my high so soon. Harri would join me in the jam without hesitation, somehow managing to beckon me inside amidst all the head banging and air guitaring. I entered the flat, closed the door behind me, spread my arms wide and fell into a power hug with my main man.

“Hey man, good to see you! How are you?” Harri said this with a tone that made it clear he would have a day off the next day and would be ready to go on all night. “I’m great my man, good to see you too.”

I turned off the song from my phone and left my shoes by the door, as you do. Harri’s apartment was of a comfortable size. He had a proper bedroom and a kitchen, a recently renovated bathroom, a living room and a covered balcony on the top floor of an apartment building in Pasila. His decoration had a patchwork feel to it, since nothing was bought together new, but instead things he had bought or received from all sorts of places throughout his life. I absolutely loved it.

The entrance was a corridor that had two doors on the left leading to the bedroom and the kitchen, one on the very end that was the bathroom and lastly on the right was the entrance to the living room where Tapio was already sitting on a sofa, holding a can of beer in one hand and a phone on the other.

“Long time no see Tapio.” I said with my hand on Tapio’s shoulder.
He looked up from his phone and replied with a giggle while I crashed onto the sofa right next to him. 

The room had two sofas that surrounded a large flat-topped wooden chest, that functioned as a sofa table, in an L-formation. Behind the sofa table stood a large shelf system expanding to the entire width of the wall. It had books, family photos, ice hockey paraphernalia and a TV in it. Tapio and I were sitting on the sofa that stood against a wall, first thing to the right from the entrance, directly opposite from the TV. To the right from us was a door to the balcony. We were on the top floor and at times the view could be quite sublime. Next to the door, against the window to the balcony, was a white work desk with a computer and speakers. The computer was on with a YouTube video on pause.

Harri was the type of person who would, from time to time, get sucked into these worm holes. He would click on an interesting video and find himself watching just “one more” a few hours later. Mind you, he didn’t only watch memes but consumed an ample amount of video essays and documentaries on various topics within philosophy, history and science. He had an insatiable thirst for knowledge and he marveled at the universe on a daily basis. This habit had accumulated him quite a respectable amount of knowledge and combined with his already above average intellect, I thought of him as a pretty intelligent individual. This probably also made him a great listener. His shoulder was like an anvil, because it had withstood so many bangs from my head when I’ve looked for comfort and confided to a friendly pair of ears. He truly was a dear friend.

Harri stood at the living room entrance holding a bottle of liquor in each hand, gin in one and bourbon in the other: “I got these from work and I start my summer holiday tomorrow, so I thought what better way to start it than by opening these two bad boys and having a drink. What do you think? Should I fix you guys something?” Tapio and I both first looked at each other and then asked Harri in disbelief “You got booze from work?”. “Well yes, I had the best sales last month and the month before but they forgot to get me anything, so I got two instead of one.” It was typical of Harri to be sneaky about these kinds of things. He didn’t like to talk about himself so instead of proudly proclaiming his success, like I surely would, he instead only mentioned it if absolutely necessary.

“Nice one man! Sure, I would love a gin and tonic.” Said Tapio.
“I’d kill for an old fashioned.” I added. Something to do with my hands. I was coming up hard, verging on overdrive.
“I don’t know if I have oranges, but let me see what I can do.” Harri replied, mumbling while absent-mindedly wandering into the kitchen.
“Thank you!” Tapio tried being polite, but Harri was already lost in thought, concentrating on the task at hand. I got up from the sofa to follow him and said, “I’ll join you.” I felt especially social, while Tapio stayed on the sofa.

The kitchen was just like any single man’s kitchen. It had all the basics: A wooden table against a window with four chairs surrounded by an L-shape kitchen, nothing fancy. While Harri was squatting down to get ice from the freezer, I drew out a chair and took a seat by the table.

“So what’s new? Seen anything interesting lately?” I asked whilst tapping my fingers onto the table with one hand and tinkering the tablecloth with another.
“Well…” Harri was prying ice from the tray he had just popped out the freezer. A small grunt and a tingle of ice onto the kitchen top before he continued, “...actually yes. I watched a clip about the dark web. People do all sorts of dodgy business on it, ranging from casual drug trade all the way to arms dealing and human trafficking.” He had muddled sugar with bitters and a dash of vichy, followed by a shot of bourbon and ice. “Supposedly it’s all completely anonymous and untraceable. You need a special browser to access the content.” He quickly scratched his right cheek before looking over his shoulder, “I’m sorry I have no oranges. I guess this’ll have to do.” I waived it all off like it was nothing, but honestly speaking the orange was what made it special for me. He then turned around and reached out to hand me my glass of brown liquid gold. Even if it wasn’t the best drink, at least I’d have something to do with my hands.

“So about that dark web...”, I said before taking a sip “I suppose that’s really only used somewhere like the US, or maybe the UK? Russia? Surely not over here in Helsinki?” I wanted to show an interest in the topic, although it did seem a little bit like something from a movie. It could’ve come from the mouth of people who wear tin foil and avoid being heard by ‘the man’. Harri had already turned back to the kitchen top to make two Gin and tonics, one for Tapio and the other for himself and replied, “Actually yes, to my understanding it is being used internationally. Even here. I don’t know how much weapons or people are being sold, but drugs most certainly.” This left me nodding silently to myself, fiddling with the glass in my hand and looking out the kitchen window.

“Tell me about your trip, how was it?” Harri asked over his shoulder with a clearly happier note in his voice. For the second time that day I was caught with my pants down, I had no good answer to give, “Yeah well, you know, good. Good! It was great, yeah. Gathered some decent source material and soaked in all of that good old inspiration they keep going on about, am I right?” a long dram would hide the nervous laughter and cold sweats.  “Alright, that actually sounds pretty good.” He said with approval, maintaining that positive tone, and left it at that. Without even the slightest look at me, he knew I got uncomfortable talking about my work. I stared into my glass in silence thinking about working, and briefly wondered if I ever truly wanted to be a writer, or whether I was just so caught up trying to be someone else than who I really was.

“Soft seats?” Harri’s question had me snap out of it. I looked up and saw he had a wide smile upon his face. A drink in both hands, one of his index fingers pointing towards the living room, he was doing a small dance with his feet. It was a poor man’s Salsa. “You make one hell of a sales pitch. Sure, why not.”

Harri was a salesman, to be more precise he dealt with mobile phones and contracts. It was a steady job that paid well enough to live a normal life, but it was the sales bonuses that really made the difference. If you sold enough you could be earning like a surgeon with little to no education. Maybe I was blowing it out of proportion, but honestly speaking one could get very nice things with a job like that. If that was your fancy. However, I never ever in a million years have pictured something like that for him. I had in mind something to do with the humanities, perhaps a modern day philosopher – like the ancient ones – with slaves feeding him grapes and wine so he could concentrate all of his energy on thinking. When approached with this he would have a very solid and definitive answer “I get all the intellectual stimulus I need in my free time, I don’t need it in my work. Work is always work, and I don’t want my favourite things to become that.” Fair enough, I thought. No one could possibly blame him for pursuing happiness.

The three of us stood in the living room around the sofa table, each with a drink in hand, and Tapio was proposing we make a toast. “So... guys, what are we drinking to?”
“Actually, I think we should just drink for the sake of drinking”, suggested Harri
“You’re no fun!”, said Tapio giggling.
“Oh come on, let’s not make this more complicated than it needs to be. Let’s just drink to everlasting friendship, good health and happiness.” I contributed with sarcastic humour and smiled at the ludicrosity of it all.
“That’s a bit corny, but what the hell, I’ll drink to that,” said Tapio giggling agreeingly.
“Sure” Harri gave in to the foolishness, smiling with just one side of his face.
We said cheers and clinked our glasses.

The events from then on consisted of heavy drinking, smoking and me sneaking into my bustle bag in the toilet. Harri and Tapio couldn’t have been ignorant of my favourite poison, and it was that one thing, neither of them would mention. Amphetamines weren't their scene and I would never rub it in their faces. This and all of the drinking has made my recollection of the evening quite hazy to say the least. However, I do remember that we ran out of drinks in the flat and we headed out to restock just before the stores would stop selling alcohol. Instead of heading back to the flat we decided to make the most out of the long and warm summer night and took our drinking to a park in Alppila.

The park was beautiful with beams of light penetrating through branches and leaves, painting our drunken faces with a pale tint of orange. Slight humidity on grass where beverages had been spilt would glimmer and reflect bright yellows and deeper reds. We were sitting on a large rock area that protruded from the ground at the edge of the park and formed a cliff. The view was sublime, unlike the drunken spiel that was going on amongst us.

Ants went on about their simple lives down on the ground, which inspired Harri to tell us about his fascination with different insects and how many different types of flies there actually were. Whereas Tapio would wonder about the existence of free will and the meaning of life. My debauchery had reached a level of arrogance where I would brush off Harri’s notion of several types of flies by ignorantly stating “they all looked the same to me” and Tapio’s attempts at profound thought with “There has to be free will, and I have proof: people are all dicks! And there is no fucking meaning to any of this shit.” Fortunately we knew each other well enough to simply laugh it off with a slap on the knee.

The night wasn’t very young anymore and it was getting darker. It was already well past midnight and you could tell by our faces that all of us really needed our bed. We had left the park and were slowly making our way towards Kallio and Pasila, which were our homes. Along the way, the ‘Linnanmäki’ amusement park, and it’s tallest ride ‘The King’ was standing proudly and pointing towards the sky. A tower that started with a slow ascent that lured you from a tingle in your belly into a false sense of serenity with the astonishing view at the top, only to suddenly do a 75 metre free fall. I stopped to marvel at it although the mere sight of it gave me vertigo. It was the colour of cream and it’s design was very strict and functional, and reminded me of an old air traffic control tower.

“Jari, you coming?” Harri asked. I struggled to stand still and took steps both diagonally and orthogonally in an attempt to hold still and gander. I didn’t answer, but instead pointed at the ride. Both Tapio and Harri walked behind me and we all looked at the amusement park together.

“Guys, I have an idea.” Tapio whispered.
“What?” Replied Harri.
“Why are we whispering?” I added, whispering myself.
“I really don’t know!” Tapio burst out giggling that spread like a yawn to all of us.
“So… See this path here, right? It leads to the secondary entrance. Let’s climb the fence!”
“Shit man. Are you serious?” I said, still my eyes fixated on that tower.
“Let’s do this as a sort of, what should I call it… A city challenge!” Tapio’s bravado had no limits. After all, he was an adventurous soul.
“Hell yeah, let’s do this.” Harri started pumping on the balls of his feet, eager to go already.
“Won’t there be security?” I was trying to find a way not to take part in this foolishness.
“Security shmemurity, what do you think is going to happen? An alarm? I doubt it, and even if so, then we’ll climb back and act like nothing happened!” Tapio insisted, but not at all in a pushy manner.
“Come on Jari!” Harri grabbed me from my shoulder and shook me a bit.
“Oh fuck it, I can’t say no to you.” And we were off.

I should have known better, because it wasn’t uncommon for Tapio to suggest a “city challenge” – as we would call it – where we would get up to mischief in urban areas. This could range from harmless competition between friends at a sports park all the way to what we were about to do.

The path ran uphill and was laid with asphalt. It almost seemed like the universe was mocking us by first slightly turning the path away from the entrance and only a bit later turning back towards it and connecting to the main walkway leading to the gate.

Finally, we stood in front of the entrance looking at each other, the decked entrance and the metal gate that surrounded the entire park. The gate was metal painted purple, stood no more than three meters tall and was structured like prison bars with the exception of having horizontal lines in addition to vertical ones, making it rather easy to climb over. Tapio was the first to approach the gate to the right of the entrance, grabbed two vertical bars with both of his hands and gave them a solid shake. “Seems sturdy to me,” and instantly began climbing. Harri was quick to follow.

“I guess we’re actually doing this.” I said, almost breathless, and put my foot on the lowest horizontal bar and pushed myself up into a steady climb. Subtle squeaks and a resonating hum rang from the bars as three grown men made their way over. The climb down was even easier, thanks to a concrete ledge almost a metre from the floor.

“I was sure there would be some kind of security measures, but hey-ho, I guess not,” whispered Tapio.
“Wait, what? But you said...” I was whispering loudly, like in a play until Harri interrupted by saying “Yes, yes, we all say silly things sometimes. Let’s not get hung up on them and concentrate on what’s next.”
“Well, I was actually thinking we could go check out the old roller coaster. How about it?” Tapio seemed like he had this all planned out already. Harri agreed and all I did was show with my body language that I had no better ideas. And off we went.

We had the whole width of the park to cover by foot, and there were no security personnel in sight. The sun had started to rise again as well and wouldn’t set for another 18 hours or so. After a long winter, the amount of light made the passing of time feel very different and added to your stamina when drinking outside.

Tapio led the way and Harri watched our back while I, the most drunken one of us, walked in between. We were about to turn a corner next to the pub and ‘The King’ when we heard sounds of an engine approaching. Our collective mind told each of us to jump into the bush next to the path and hold still. One by one we disappeared into the thick vegetation and waited for it to blow over. Harri was right next to me and poked me with a finger to get my attention.

“What?” I whispered.
“Yeah, about those flies.”
“What? Really? Now?”
“Yeah I think you’d notice they are very different if you really paid attention and carefully observe them for even a little while, you know. I bet you can tell a fruit fly apart from a common house fly, can’t you?” Harri said with an apparent drunken demeanor.
I was so worried that the guard would hear us, so instead of using words, I mimed, “Shut the fuck up”. Tapio, overhearing us, was trying to hold in his infectious giggle. Harri and I both took notice of him shaking amidst the bushes, making it nearly impossible to not laugh out loud ourselves.

The sound of the approaching engine grew ever louder until it reached maximum volume and stopped right in front of us. I could see slightly through the branches and really squinted my eyes to see what was going on outside the bush. It wasn’t one, but two quad bikes facing each other. Seemingly there had been another one coming from behind, unbeknownst to us. The guards driving them were a man and a woman, dressed in typical black security personnel uniforms, talking to each other and smoking cigarettes. It was hard to make out what they were saying over the sound of the engines but I think they were discussing their routes. It wasn’t too long until they said goodbyes and continued into opposite directions.

“Are we clear?” I asked, dying to get out of the bush.
“I think so” replied Tapio and started climbing out.
We were lucky that the sun hadn’t risen too much at that point, because when climbing out I realised that our cover wasn’t all that good.

Tapio beckoned us to follow and we continued on our journey as we were before that incident, only now we were slightly crouched and had a snappier pace. Successfully hiding from the guards didn’t make us more wary, but cocksure instead.

We arrived at an underpass that went through a food court leading to a staircase just next to the old roller coaster. This underpass was decorated with funny mirrors, distorting the people looking into them. Tapio and I were focused on not being seen by anyone, beelining towards the stairs. Just as I was starting to climb up, I happened to look back and saw Harri giggling and looking at himself through these distorting mirrors.

I slapped Tapio on his shoulder to get his attention and pointed at Harri. Tapio let out a laugh that he tried to muffle instantly with his palm. I called out to Harri both whispering and laughing, “Psst. Harri. Let’s go!”

We finally made it to the top of the stairs and saw the old roller coaster in all its glory. We stopped for a short while, looking at the thing, until I looked at the guys and said “We are climbing that thing, aren’t we?” All I needed as a reply was a slight nod of the head accompanied by a wide smile and we were off.

The roller coaster was completely made out of wood and built sometime in the early 1950s to originally serve as an attraction for the 1952 Helsinki Summer Olympics. The highest point was over 20 metres tall, the cars in the trains had their bodies made out of oak and, to this day, a brakeman would stand in the back operating it.

All it took to reach the structure itself was to jump over a very shallow, maybe thigh-high, metal fence that swung open wide after the last of us had jumped. No one seemed to hear us, so we gently closed it and kept going.

After a brief walk through a wooden corridor with a subtle incline, where people would normally queue for the ride, we would reach the upper deck where the trains would take in passengers. Behind the track was a stepladder, for maintenance, that reached the very top of the structure. 

We approached the ladder and at its base we looked at each other and all gave a nod in silent approval. I didn’t really care for heights either, yet I somehow found myself leading our pack upwards. White-knuckled I made sure every step was as solid as the previous one. The ladder creaked at every step we would take. It shook more and more every time one of us took a step, lowering our weight onto it. We climbed them up to the very top and leaned onto the fence like three breathless musketeers, victorious as one.

After catching our breaths we would just stand there quietly, soaking in the sight of the sleeping park and of course Helsinki as far as the eye could see. The beauty of the landscape amplified by the amount of effort it had taken to get to where we were. I stood in the middle with Harri on my left and Tapio on my right, all smiling at our success.

These two men had always been there for me. I bet they had no idea how much I appreciated and loved them for that. I put my arms on both of their shoulders and pulled them closer. My jaw was going all over the place. The guys responded and we formed a huddle. Harri stated that if there is something we are good at, it is that we really know how to enjoy life. That made me smile. I was so exhausted from everything that night, which was a success, so I replied by saying “Guys… I love you… But I think I need my bed now.”

The next morning it felt as if my skull was too small for my brain. It was throbbing, trying to pound its way out from the confinement of my head. My ears rang like a concert of a million crickets playing out of tune. And to top it all off, it tasted like a cat had shat in my mouth while I was asleep.

I had absolutely no recollection of how I made it to bed last night, but there I was, swimming in a pool of my own perspiration wearing nothing but my underwear. My clothes were in a messy bundle on the floor by the bed. The warm summer sun turned the living conditions in my apartment into a violation of my human rights. Did I really remember to crack open the window before crashing into my bed last night or had I left it open yesterday evening, before leaving the flat to visit my brother?

Somehow I mustered the energy to get up and walk to the bathroom. I looked at myself through the reflection on the mirror and realised my vision was a tad hazy from the pain. I’m not ashamed to admit that it was then that a tear ran down my cheek. I was having a rough one that morning and needed to hit the shower.

It was the number one hangover cure for me to turn the shower on at a pretty heavy blast, but just the right temperature, and just sit on the floor with the water pouring down straight onto my head. Taking long breaths and trying to relax, entertaining the thought of turning onto my side into a fetal position as if in a womb.

As soon as the worst pain had worn off, a terrible urge I had for a fix made it very difficult to get through the present. My thoughts felt unhealthy, but not something a simple line wouldn’t fix. I knew that initially it would make everything feel better. However, the come down afterwards would always be a bit worse. The drug was a nasty loan with an interest, the more you borrowed the more you had to pay back. I brushed my teeth in the shower, got up and dried myself off.

The last time I had experienced something similar to what I was feeling that morning was some years ago. When I was still together with Sofia. It was shortly after my brother had died, when I started this downward spiral. It started with excessive drinking and slowly but surely morphed into daily use of amphetamine. Once it was something that gave me euphoria whenever I was feeling down, and now it was one of the few things that could mask my melancholy. Especially after things went south with Sofia.

There was a party somewhere in the asshole of Helsinki, in a grand detached house, where people were crammed into every possible room and even the entire yard was crowded. I destroyed an entire bottle of whiskey and went into what we call “autopilot”. I don’t remember much, but I do remember lying on the grass after violent vomiting, staring at the stars. Some friends would pass me by and I would insist that they join me and come lie next to me on the cool grass and stare into the abyss in silence. I must’ve fallen in and out of sleep, recovering from the heavy drinking. What was I thinking that night? 

Next thing I remember is people lifting me up on my feet, asking whether I can walk to the car and stating that it was finally time for me to go home and sober up. I would brush off the helping hands around me, huffing and puffing, going on about how I could walk myself without a problem. However, the only one I had convinced was myself.

I started walking down the declining grassy hill that connected the backyard to the small parking space for cars next to the main entrance. I was way too drunk to walk unassisted and for some inexplicable reason, to add to the misery, I kept my eyes closed. Shortly after I started to feel like I wasn’t walking straight and that I was losing my balance. My thighs couldn’t take the pressure of walking downhill so my feet started to take steps at an exponentially increasing pace. What a sight I must have been when my body finally started to lean off course, my feet still attempting to keep me upright, eventually falling down face first onto the grass sliding down a few metres. Something that would have been extremely painful in a more lucid state.

The next time I opened my eyes was in bed the morning after. I hadn’t turned my head yet, looking out of the window, and said to Sofia “I feel like I was a pain in the ass last night”. I then turned over only to see her beautiful smile and kind eyes looking at me. “Yes, you were honey.” That was the best thing that happened that day. The rest was survival.

She was always there for me. Ready to carry a part of my burden with her and love me for who I really was, warts and all. We would share all of my artistic endeavours and she would make me feel like the greatest there ever was. We would also share my misfortunes, we would cry together, and she would make me feel like I was never alone. Even that morning, when I was the only one to blame for my unbearable state, she wouldn’t blame me in the slightest but help me get over it instead. She’d cook food, bring drinks, painkillers and cuddle me until I would feel like a human being. 

However, our relationship was somewhat on and off. I was foolish enough to break up with her on multiple occasions, and she was wonderful enough to take me back each and every time. Until I had broken her heart one time too many. It was never about her, or even us, but only myself. My confidence issues, feelings of inadequacy, states of depression and periods of self-destructive behaviour. I never really wanted it, but something in me made me go through with it.

That tragic time when she wouldn't take me back, but rejected me instead, diminished me into a lesser being. She was standing in her apartment entrance, trying to make her way to work, while I was grovelling at her feet, sobbing and begging her to reconsider, but to no avail. She had made up her mind, and I was actually happy for her although she had torn my heart apart. She had finally realised that I wasn’t good for her and that she needed to move on. Well I couldn’t and never really would. I was addicted to having her in my life.

People often say that if you truly love someone you wouldn’t leave them. Frankly, I don’t think that is entirely true. When you truly love someone you will leave them if they are better off without you. Even if it feels like you are a tiny row boat, dropped into the middle of a vast ocean, facing it’s tumultuous waves all alone. That is love.

Sometimes, to this day, I’d get a drink and sit on a park bench that had a direct view to her work place. I’d follow her from afar serving her customers with coffee and food, reminiscing and thinking about how I never really deserved her love. She was so beautiful and pure. I used to think that if I could contribute to the pursuit of happiness of someone that good, I could be happy too.

However, not living for yourself didn’t turn out well. I ended up bottling a lot of things inside of me, convincing everyone and above all myself, that everything was absolutely fine when nothing actually was. At least it felt like that then. In my mind, the death of my brother with all of the bitterness and all of the anger found no constructive way of being delivered. It consumed everything inside me until there was nothing else at all. I was so numb and empty, and the only way to try to fill that void was to be angry. My depression was symptomatic in the way that it made me project negatively towards our relationship. The security Sofia gave me made it easy to be angry, snappy and temperamental with her, a miserable cry for help. I regret doing it to a person whom I loved the most, and who loved me back. And having that was the greatest joy in life.

The guy I would usually go to for a bustle bag replied with the most disheartening news. He had run out at least for the day. The night before had been busier than usual. For a while I was devastated and even considered going through the ashtray for roaches with bits of weed in them until I felt enlightened. I had an epiphany.

Pleased with myself that I remembered Harri telling me everything about the dark web last night, I started doing some digging on my laptop. I sat down on my sofa, whipped open the computer and logged on. Everything from there on was surprisingly easy, pretty much anyone with just average computer skills could have followed the necessary steps. All I needed was two new pieces of free software and I was good to go: a web browser – that allows access to the Tor overlay network – and an anonymous peer to peer messaging app on the smartphone. Now I needed a username, looking around my flat somehow the kitchen sink caught my eye. Hence the name, “sinkman”.

I browsed through an anonymous marketplace, only accessible via a specific browser, called “the onion market” and found a vast list of vices for sales. There was everything from drugs to child porn. Good vendors had received positive feedback from being pedantic with time and not being frantic or fretful whereas bad vendors were called out by a plethora of nasty names I don’t need to repeat.

The focus switched rather quickly from curiosity to my main task at hand, which was speed. Believe me, there was plenty of it. People were willing to trade their TV sets and even handguns for relatively small amounts of it, and in a perverted way this made me feel much better about myself. “At least I’m not that guy” I said to myself, leaning even closer to the laptop screen.

I sent out messages to many vendors, but the enthusiasm and speedy reply of one who called themself “Null”, caught me by surprise. We then agreed on the quantity, a place to meet and the time the transaction would take place. Our rendezvous point was not too far from my place, just needed to pop by an ATM on the way, and after I had checked I had my phone, keys and wallet with me, I was off. My feet felt light and the idea of meeting Null was exhilarating.

I arrived at the construction site way earlier than we had originally agreed. The resentment towards people that were late had made me pedantic. If there ever was a chance that I would be even slightly late my heart rate would rise and a healthy perspiration would cover my skin all around from head to toe. Sometimes at school I would arrive to class barely on time, but was too aware of the sweating that I would have to excuse myself and go cool down in the toilet. If I really had to run to make it on time I would have to strip my top off and wipe my body with tissues in a nervous manner. I would never smell, but I was very persistent on maintaining a good body odour.

I stood there by the edge of what was to become an apartment building, like a fool and nobody came. Not even a single passer by. The construction site was on hold, and had been for quite some time. Who knew what was going on. My imagination got a spark. Maybe the city had a competitive bid on the project and the construction company got caught using illegal workers eventually going bankrupt. Now the site would stand still until a new company would be chosen to finish what they had started.

I took a peek at my phone, just to check I had the right time when we were supposed to meet. I thought I should send him a message, but then worried it might just be a bit too pushy. At that very moment, my phone still in my hand, I received a message. “Meet me inside the container”- it was from Null. I looked around and behind me, some fifty paces further, was a container that I assumed was the break room and locker room for the workers. It was navy blue and had misspelled curses tagged on it. While approaching it I noticed that the door was slightly open.

Inside the container, it was very dark and the air was quite thick. It needed some major dusting and I could swear that I heard something move on the floor the very second I entered. It must’ve been a rat. God, I hated rats. To be honest I was scared of them and to be really honest, pretty much any animal – besides humans – freaked me out on some level.

I couldn’t find a light switch by the door. It was a bit odd, but I didn’t think much of it. Further up, I noticed there was a door leading to another section of the container, and started making my way towards it while calling out for Null. Then the door slammed shut behind me and suddenly I was in complete darkness. I was startled by the loud sound of the closing door and the instant darkness. I swear I could hear the blood rushing into my head. “Hello?” I tried to say this in a loud and confident voice, but I hid the fear and suspicion poorly. First I heard shallow breathing, then a few quick steps and finally felt an immense pain in the back of my head.

I woke up to a bright light shining on my face. My head was throbbing and felt uncomfortably large, like a swollen finger you had just accidentally hit with a hammer when aiming for a nail. I turned to look away from the light and realised that I was sitting on a chair bolted onto the floor, both my hands and legs tied to the chair with more cable ties than necessary. Then I screamed for help and tried to wriggle myself out of the chair with sheer terror, but my mouth was sealed shut with duct tape and nothing but a muffled shriek came out. With shivers and sweats I tried to make sense of the situation I had gotten myself into.

Again shallow breathing, followed by a few slow and heavy steps and finally a silhouette of a person in front of the spotlight aimed at my face.

A man’s voice said “no temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.” The voice itself was very normal, but the intonation was that of a lunatic given the chance to speak their mind.

I let out a shivering and muffled cry, but noticed no change in the man’s habitus. The squeaking sound the man’s nostrils made when breathing felt very amplified and distressing, resonating at an unpleasant pitch piercing my ears.

“Pleased to meet you. No introductions needed, I go on an anonymous basis”, said the man still standing unmoved in front of me. He had a slightly high pitched voice and he sucked air into his right cheek between every sentence. It didn’t sound like he was unwell, but just an uncommon manner instead

“I want you to know that I am here to save you, to help you get closer to your creator.” He then finally moved to my left letting the light blind me again. I tried following him with my eyes to see what was going on, but I couldn’t make out what was happening in the darkness behind me. Shortly after I heard squeaking and rattling as if a small shopping cart was pushed on very uneven asphalt. It was the man pushing a metal table on wheels.

“I am also a lamb of God, merely doing his bidding, bestowed the role of the wolf preying the weak. I am nothing, the most important part of everything. There cannot be anything without nothing, without me.” The man parked the table on my left and only now I could properly see what was on it. There was a syringe and what seemed a pretty great amount of amphetamines. Only now I realised that the meeting with Null was nothing but a sick plot.

I felt the worst kind of fear I had ever felt and tried to wriggle my way out as hard as I could while crying muffled, pleading for mercy from my fellow man with my eyes. Null then put his hand on my head and started praying.

“Through this holy anointing may the Lord in His love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit. May the Lord who frees you from sin save you and raise you up.” Although I realised that these were the last rites he was citing, I felt much calmer and didn’t feel the urge to resist as badly as I had before. I believed that there was goodness in this man and that he was only going to teach me a lesson.

“Behold, this is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Blessed are those who are called to his supper” Null continued before lifting the palm of his hand off my brow. My eyes were getting used to the lighting and I could finally make out some of his features. He was at least as tall as I was but lean, tough and sinewy. His hair was light yellow and split in the middle. He was slightly jug-eared, had a strong jaw and his nose was narrow at the base but disturbingly bulky at the end. I couldn’t see the colour of his eyes, but as far as I was concerned they were a deep blue and full of crazy. He seemed both lost and determined at the same time. The light behind him revealed that he couldn’t grow a proper beard or that he shaved poorly, because there were light relatively long bits of hair scattered around his jawline.

He then moved towards the syringe and started to load it with, what I believed was, an amphetamine infused solution.

“Lord, he is not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and he shall be healed.”

The terror was all too real and tormenting. The profuse sweating connected seamlessly into the flow of tears on my cheeks and down towards my neck and ears. As he was loading a large amount of amphetamine into the syringe he continued “I believe in God, the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth...”

I wriggled and screamed and much as I could, and still there wasn’t even the slightest change in Null’s behaviour. He didn’t even flinch.

“...And in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord…”

I continued wriggling beyond the point of excruciating pain I felt in my wrists and ankles. The chair made a rattling sound as if it had loosened the bolts a bit.  Determined to keep going, I could already see bloody abrasions on my wrists bleeding down towards the chair.

“...I believe in the Holy spirit, the Holy Christian Church..”

Null was holding the syringe vertically in front of his face and tapped it a few times. He then continued to push the plunger and let out a slight squirt of its liquid. I could hear my teeth crack from biting down so hard on them. Null grabbed my left arm.

“...The communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins…”

As I saw the needle approach the bend of my arm I let out a series of desperate sobs trying to appeal to the man’s emotions one last time. He pricked the needle into my vein on the first try and to my surprise I could barely feel it.

“...The resurrection of the body…”

As I saw blood being sucked into the syringe I knew at last. This is how I go.

“...And the life everlasting.”

Null pushed the plunger all the way, and as the rush overwhelmed me, I tilted my head back and looked up into nothing. Holding my eyes closed shut, shaking manically, enjoying my last ride. It was nearly impossible to concentrate on anything, but the last thing I recalled was Null’s final words to me. “Nothing humbles a man like pain, and under God, that is all we ought to be.”

Finally, I opened my eyes.

Almost at ease, with complete control of this reality, I observed myself from the third perspective. The ashen look on my face extended its way throughout my body evening out the imperfections of the skin of a living person. There was beauty in how I blended into the perpetual whiteness surrounding me and how little by little the brittle vessel carrying my mind was shedding tiny flakes like a burning piece of paper. It was true, I was decidedly dead, but something was different.

All the infinite possibilities of what actually had been in the past  and what could be in the future, consumed me. Just like in life, I was an addict in death. I kept searching for a scenario where I was happy, and found myself throwing away one life after another. After a strenuously long period of time, one that almost felt like a lifetime, my vessel was deteriorating to a point of no return where I looked like a straw house amidst a hurricane. This forced me to stop and think.

Both the prescience and the hindsight I had been given in death had given me more than I could ever have hoped for. My life was my masterpiece, and I was always in control as an omniscient narrator. It struck me that the absurdity of a conscious being, the absurdity of life, was the greatest thing there was and instead of trivially searching for a purpose in life, it was important to understand that to marvel at this very absurdity was all the meaning one actually needed.

To celebrate the mundane: To stare at a sublime sunset, to let yourself go at the sounds of the ocean, to touch tall grass, to savour every kiss and to eventually die knowing that you had in fact lived a life to the fullest. In the end, there was meaning in having no meaning and there was happiness in sadness. The answer had been so close that it had become very difficult to see. After all this time, it had been me. I myself had been that one thing keeping myself from being happy. I started to cry.

Still observing myself from an out of body experience and seeing tears running down my face, something that was not supposed to be possible in this place, triggered a strong revelation that finally set me free. What was left of my flaky body spontaneously combusted and disappeared, leaving my mind to wander away into the next place, a place of peace where nothing was everything and everything was love. I was sure of it.

There was nothing. I felt nothing.
Nothing at all. And for once, it was just fine.

© Yasir Al-Ani 2021