I opened my eyes once more in unfamiliar surroundings. A brief look downwards confirmed the worst possible outcome, I was still not wearing any clothes. Somehow I began to see a pattern here...
My entire self was enveloped in a gentle sphere of light, keeping me afloat in a state of absolute weightlessness. Moving my hands I made sure that my body did really exist. To an outsider, it might seem strange, but it was very important to me.
I touched every nook and cranny of my body and, thankfully, everything was real and in the right size. This was my real body, or at least it did not feel different to the ones I had before.
I was still me.
My body was softly carried into the unknown all the while I curiously gazed into the milky-white scenery, which just passed on by. Countless images of my former life started to play simultaneously. I saw my very first day in prison; I meant school─honestly, the same thing.
The very first feelings of love, the rose-tinted glasses and my hots for the crazy Mom of my childhood friend. Her yell awoke something in me. That stern look...
I spotted a past self of mine sitting on the porcelain throne, with a face full of tension, as he began to 'express' himself. The feeling of relaxation after emptying his bowel was more than palpable. I refuse to acknowledge the look of pure pride on my face, just looking at the 'result' I had produced.
I was better than that. Please, someone just reassure me that I was better than that. Please?
Alas, my pleading remained unanswered and I could only watch on in horror as I grabbed my phone to take a picture of it. This was a human rights violation, no, it was a war crime. Just kill me now, I could not bear it any longer. My past self needed to be shot on the spot.
It was like looking at a car crash, I wanted to, but my eyes remained locked on the well-formed turd. When had everything turned to shit? Regardless of where I looked, all I saw was the products of my bowels.
Seriously, why was every memory fragment I saw about the various shapes and forms of faecal matter? Was my life really that shitty?
Were the most memorable aspects of my life my various visits to the toilet?
My life truly had gone down the drain; somehow eating the nuts for the third time became more and more enticing. Was there any moral lessons or funny anecdotes I could talk about? Or would my contorted visage, while taking a dump, haunt me forevermore?
Make it stop, make it stop.
However, putting the disgusting and nauseating nature of these images aside. Eating fibre vastly improved the constipations I occasionally had. Soon the expressions on my face were a lot more relaxed.
The whole operation had become a lot smoother and less strenuous. I remember how happy I was back then; about such a small and insignificant thing. Life truly was simpler back then.
As much of a shitshow this was, it also was also a part of my history. Although I would certainly not share these memories with anyone else, they still shaped me in some form or another.
Without them, I would not be the batshit crazy man I am today.
What a profound life lesson found at the base of a heated toilet seat. One can really turn shit into gold─to be expected from the bootleg version of the philosophers stone.
In general, many things in life were unavoidable. Events such as these fell under the category of "Shit happens." Not much could be done to be spared those daily troubles. The best solution to avoid pooping was a swift death.
I should host a Ted-talk with more sensible advice on life's biggest problems. You would be surprised how many of humanity's biggest issues could be solved by murder and cannibalism.
Immoral and against the law, yet highly effective. Ethical guidelines were more of a suggestion either way. Unless you are poor; then you are fucked.
Speaking about being poor, the images around me had changed to my daily life in the cheap dormitory I had lived during the last years of my life. Truth be told, I always thought it would be more of a phase.
All of my former schoolmates had something going for them and I was just sitting at home beating my meat to "Its my life" by Bon Jovi. They had successful careers, families and big houses, and I was married to my gaming PC.
This life of mine was not something my conservative parents were very fond of. They used every chance they got to let me know how much of a failure I was in their eyes.
Looking back, I could never be the son they wanted me to be.
Even if I wanted to, I could never replace my elder brother that, as my parents told me, suddenly chose to give his first kiss to the incoming speeding train. He was in over his head and his head was soon not over him.
There are some things in life that can not be mended. At 3 years of age, the life I lived was not mine any longer.
He left me all alone and I did not even know why. Only much later did I get a postcard straight from Brazil. On it, I saw my brother passionately kissing our former pool boy. Mom and Dad were right, my big bro had been railed. That was the first time I had seen him this happy.
The other time was on the autopsy table after popping 3 sketchy boner pills he got the internet, at a massive orgy. He had reached heaven multiple times that night.
May he have found a better afterlife than I did. Something, which was not terrorized by nuts or other nightmare-inducing objects. Though I did suspect that he would be into that sort of thing. Bless him, that loveable fool.
From him, I had learned to live my life without any guilt. Because, despite all of what may happen, it truly was my life. At times, you would be sad or feel conflicted, but I never came to regret the choices I made.
Life was too short, unlike my massive...debt. There was no shortage of people, that was after my nonexistent money. Everybody wanted to feel desired, however, they were only after my body.
It felt so objectifying to be reduced to what's in your pants. Everything was about the size of your wallet. The girthier and more pronounced the better.
Such an outdated and materialistic way of thinking; the man of today uses credit cards. Just to be clear, I never said it had to be your own. Did I mention, I nearly went to prison for credit fraud? But that was just baseless slander.
How could the likes of me do something so vile and despicable? After all, I was innocent unless proven guilty and I would have made sure not to leave any tangible evidence behind. Man, I miss the days of my youth.
Strangely enough, everything I saw as I travelled through this wonderful space were parts of my life I had not come to terms with. I had to let go and accept my past, for them to disappear.
This should be easy, there was nothing in my life that I would feel any more embarrassed about than the things I had already seen. If you can stomach your animalistic expression when taking a big fat dump then nothing can stop you.
As if the universe had taken offence to that statement, a barrage of mortifying memories was brought to light. The time I found my dad's porn stash, the homemade AV my parents did, me watching said tape till the end...
The barrage of repressed childhood memories came up all at once and I wished I had kept my damn mouth shut. I could have gone on without seeing my dad shagging my mom again.
But now that image was burned into my retina and would never leave. Why did I have to say something so ominous? Had I not learned anything from my short trip in the afterlife? Bad things happen when I open my goddamn mouth.
Yet, despite my intense urge to hide in a hole, my pride felt challenged. It would surely take much more than that to bring me down. So, dear universe...Bring it on, I shall not falter in front of my cringe-fueled acts of the past.
I could not stop at my unfinished past, it needed to overcome it. Otherwise, I would be just running away and that is not me.
And the challenged universe did not disappoint. It started a new wave of attacks in the mental warfare of attrition. Here came the big guns, my first flirt attempts, the times I wetted my bet, my very first fanfiction about a certain green ogre falling in love with Lord Fuckward as a Donkey and a cat in boots were cheering from the sidelines.
In hindsight, I was more concerned about the state of my sanity at the time of writing it. I would call it a cry for help and not something to be mortified about.
The battle was a long and hard-fought one, but I persevered right on through. The rest of the painful memories disappeared all at once. I thought I had won until it all faded to black.
I knew it was way too easy...my biggest worry had come true. The final boss was awaiting.
Now, there was only one picture, regardless of where I looked. It was a 3-dimensional recording of my trip in the afterlife.
I saw myself getting naked, saw my thing flying around without any care in the world, and all of that in 4-fucking K quality. It was a really good camera angle which left nothing to the imagination. It was weird as hell to watch your naked body in every unflattering way imaginable.
My dumbass past could easily be sold as stupidity and the naivety of youth, even shitting was all but natural, but this? How would you explain the stupid shit, I did a few minutes ago?
It was like watching a horror movie, where the characters were instinctively choosing the worst option possible. And I, the viewer, could only watch in horror as my nude self did all the stupid stuff that would lead to his death.
I screamed at the image, but that fucker would not listen to me and walked straight to the nuts as if they had not done enough harm to our dignity.
It was one small nut for humankind, but a very big nut for my allergy. It was not a tough nut to crack why I saw the protagonist of this horror story die a very painful death.
" Death and Nuts" 'Run before he busts your nuts.'
A movie based on my life would certainly be nutty. The new movie by the author of bad puns and bad decision-making" Death and Nuts," coming soon to a cinema near you.
I wanted to laugh at my jokes, to distract myself from my nude-stupid self, but only tears came. I was very much the same nude dude from the movie. The image faded, and I was left in a black void.
The darkness was all too reflective of my current mood.
Yet, because fate was an ugly bastard something unexpected occurred. Another picture appeared in front of my eyes. I saw myself again, wearing clothes and walking forward once more. But this time around I fell asleep on the gravel path itself... what was happening?
Why was I not naked again? Why did I not step on the sticks to break them?
What was going on? And why of all things was that version of me allowed to have clothes and I was not?