They say when you go to hell your punishment is dictated by your actions. A lake of fire for liars. An eternal hanging for those who committed suicide. An endless blizzard for betrayers.
I arrived in hell on the day of my 22nd birthday. My girlfriend that day had admitted to cheating on me. I remember because I starting listening to "Pursuit of Happiness" by Kid Cudi after she told me. I hear that song every now and then, it reminds me of her and Ricky.
I didn't think my characteristics of who I was deserved that kind of treatment. But as I continued to look in the mirror that evening, I failed to see any redeeming qualities. Beer followed, then a hit of ecstasy, then a line of coke, followed by more ecstasy.
I hated staring at myself. I hated the fact that I wasn't strong enough to prevent the failures in my life. That I wasn't strong enough to stand up Mike Ackan after he called me a [
see forum posting rules] in middle-school. That I wasn't strong enough to be a starter on the football team, or the lacrosse team, or the track team. That I wasn't strong enough to start a conversation with the girl in photoshop class.
I had no memories of where I felt good about myself. My whole mahtra was not to think of who I was, because frankly, it depressed me. Every thought and every action I took was a step backwards. One might look at me and assure it's a learning point. But to what end? There was no end. The few good moments I had were nothing to me because of who I was and am.
I wouldn't necessarily call my death a suicide, because I assure you it was more along the lines of going out with a "bang". I didn't pull the trigger to the bullet that blew my brains onto the pavement. I didn't call the cops on myself. And most certainly didn't cheat on myself with an overgrown dick named Ricky.
They called my actions at the trial, and I quote, "Demeaning, inciting, rude, unchristian like, and unpatriotic". The jury had no trouble convicting me of two murders and all the above mentioned. I tried to say my piece, but they would hear none of it. They simply said at the end of the trial, "You are not worthy. You are nothing in the eyes of our father, you have no place here, you haven't been to a catholic mass in 10 years, and lastly I have no dismissal of the jury's decision to rule your death as a suicide."
My attorney spoke for me and got me a "Decent deal in hell" right next to the homosexuals. Who were stuck being cut and eviscerated over and over by a large bush of thorns. It wasn't too bad because my eternity of being hung seemed a cake walk compared to how they had it. I mean, common, I killed two people, kinda in cold blood. All they did was have sex with people they loved and cared about.
My friend Rico, who I knew in college is right next to me. So it's not too bad. For him it is though, since he's gay. Or was. They actually mentioned how I had no hatred towards gays in my trial. I simply replied, "I see nothing wrong with it" they gasped. I laughed.
I was surprised that this was the afterlife. I feel like heaven is like an endless episode of "I love Lucy" where people are christian and upstanding. Live in their perfect fairy-tale world and live their lives, err.. after lives.
I heard everyone gets a mansion up there. I'm so jealous but at the same time I'm not. I like my tree. I like Satan's music, and quite frankly, I like the view of the lake.
