The Funeral: Day 2

So, remember how I said I was an angel? White lie. I mean, like, I tried to be.

That counts for something, right?

I followed my parents to the funeral home. They handed the dress over to a man, as well as a recent picture of me.

I watched as he carefully put the dress on my body.

Awkward, to say the least.

Seeing myself, days after my death…its all feeling real now.

I can’t come back. There’s no rewind button on death. It’s officially over.

My parents are inconsolable, I wish I could comfort them. If only I could just somehow let them know that everything is okay and that I’m still here.

Still trying to figure out how I died, no one will talk about it. I’m so confused.

My parents were the first to see me.

They chose a lavender colored dress. Everything was perfect, the makeup, the dress.

I looked like I was just peacefully sleeping.

My dad silently wept, and my mother was crying so hard, she was struggling to catch her breath.

I heard my dad whisper, “Why?” as he stared at me.

But why what? Why did he say why?

People started arriving to the funeral home.

Cousins, Aunts, family members I hadn’t seen since I was a child. All of a sudden, they wanted to see me.

It’s odd, ya know?

People just showing up to your funeral, with flowers. Crying.

Where were you when I was alive? Why all of a sudden do you care about me now?

The fake bitches arrived like clockwork as well as the demon who broke my heart.

He looked tired and weak. Like he hadn’t slept for days. Maybe he has feelings after all? Or maybe he was pretending, something he does oh so well.

I don’t understand.

The priest spoke comforting words about life after death. He told everyone I was in heaven, looking from the clouds, happily.

Little do they know, IM FUCKING STUCK HERE! AT MY OWN GODDAMN FUNERAL.

This shit is so depressing man.

Anyways, at the end of the service people began walking to the podium to talk about memories they had of me.

Oh, boy. In my head I’m thinking, “Please keep it PG people.”

Ferdy got up and began talking about the time we met. He said. “She was made of sunshine. Everywhere she went, she made people laugh with her sarcastic humor. I wish she was here.”

Wow. No one has ever said something so sweet about me, well that I know of.

My heart sank.

What I would give for a do-over.

What I would give to tell the people I care for most, exactly how I feel about them.

Even the demon…

He swept me off my feet. You probably won’t understand me if you’ve never had your heart shattered.

I was consumed. Fell in love after the first date. I thought he was magical.

Everything about him was beautiful. His smile, laugh, personality, the way he talked and walked.

I wanted to spend every second with him, always.

It just wasn’t meant, I guess.

It amazes me how someone can make you feel so many emotions and speak beautiful words that leads you to believe that they love you, but all the while, they don’t feel how you feel.

I fell in love with a mirage.

He always told me, “We’re in this together, I’m right by your side through it all.”

Then when the going got tough, he showed his true colors. Broke my heart and left me to pick up the pieces, alone.

I was never the same after that. It was like there was a dark cloud over my head, following me everywhere.

The service ended, and the reception was held at the home I grew up in.

So, now I’ll share my deep, dark secret with you all.

Before the demon, there was someone else. I didn’t care for him. I guess you could say, I was just bored and lonely.

He was a friend of my dad and he was married.

I’m not proud of it. Never meant for it to happen. He led me to believe he was in the process of getting divorced, but later I found out the truth.

I swear, all the men in my life have disappointed me in one way or another.

I guess my karma is death?

Or am I in hell for the adultery I committed?

Wouldn’t God understand that men lie? I didn’t know he was still married.

Why am I always the bad guy?

I hope I don’t spend eternity here. 

I mean since I’m basically a fucking ghost, there should be others like me, right?

WHERE THE FUCK ARE ALL THE OTHER DEAD PEOPLE AT?

FML, 

Dead girl talking

Stuck: Day 1

Where the fuck do I even start?

All I ever wanted was to live in San Francisco and become this hot shot reporter. I was half way to my dream. 

Something my parents claimed was a giant waste of time and money. My dad always said, “You need a stable job, something with a salary!”

Welp, guess all those hopes and dreams are gone.

I’m dead.

Like dead, dead.

The thing is… I don’t know how this happened. I woke up yesterday and I was floating over my lifeless body. 

Shit was intense.

I always thought when you die, there’s like some beam of light that comes down from heaven and takes you. Or maybe it's like that milk commercial, where the cow is lifted into that beam of light from a spaceship.

But, nope. Haven’t seen any signs of aliens or God. 

It wasn’t my time. I wasn’t supposed to go out like this, for goodness sake, I just turned 22!

I haven’t even had the best sex of my life yet! I mean, I hope I haven't. What a bummer. I was really looking forward to that! 

Is this it? Is this what happens after you die? I’m stuck on earth as casper the fucking bitchy ghost?

I guess its not that bad, you know?  I'll be remembered as this young, beautiful, sassy soul forever. 

I overheard my dad talking on the phone with the funeral home, “Mahalia loved roses. We have to have white roses everywhere.”

I guess my funeral is tomorrow. I have mixed emotions. First off, I don’t like the dress they chose and if my makeup isn’t on point I’m literally going to freak the fuck out!

My mom always has- 

or I mean, had, an opinion about the way I did my makeup. Its like drag, meets goth girl, but it works ya know? Lashes are a must honey. I swear if they don’t put my fave lashes on, I will haunt someone!

Anyways, this whole dead thing is getting old pretty fast. What I would give for a shot of patron reposado and a blunt. Yes, I have good taste in tequila. Surprised?

The night before I kicked the bucket, was like any other Saturday night. I went out with my gay best friend Ferdy and we hit the Castro. 

He was like the Stanford Blanch to my Carrie Bradshaw.

I had been getting drunk almost every weekend because this stupid guy broke my heart. Maybe that’s how I died? A broken heart? Wow, pathetic.

I’m literally trapped in a fucking 80’s cliché movie or something.

Okay, I know what you’re probably thinking…why is this dead girl so bitchy?

I’m pissed off, okay? That stupid guy that broke my heart gets to keep on living. He gets to grow older and fall in love, start a family, everything I won't be able to do. 

How is this fair? I get my heart broken by an evil man and then poof, IM THE ONE WHO DIES?! 

My ideal scenario would have been him running into me, while I’m looking my best and flirting with some hot guy at Coin-Op. Meanwhile, he walks in with some mediocre blonde chick with fucked up eyeliner.

Being dead isn’t like the movies, let me tell you. 

I’m just floating around, stuck. Why am I still here? 

I thought there was supposed to be like a party somewhere and all my dead relatives greet me at the entrance of God’s nightclub.

So, like, I'm wondering what fake bitches will show up to my funeral tomorrow. Or will anyone show up at all? I'm not on speaking terms with most of my family. 

This will be interesting or possibly the most depressing funeral ever. Maybe I’m stuck here for a reason. I’m trying to figure out what I did to deserve this? I’m literally an angel, except for that one time…

Sincerely,

Dead girl talking