MC POV
'I died' was the first thought I had, 'I am alive' was the first conclusion I came to from my existence.
I didn't know why I had that thought at the time or how I made that conclusion or how was I able to possess such coherent thinking but when none of your senses are working and all you can feel is the air entering your lungs your mind is compelled to think, to makes conclusions, to keep thinking to prevent itself from going insane in that unending darkness.
My mind kept drifting in and out of consciousness for unknown periods of time, drifting in my thoughts being the only thing I could do, and that's what I did. I forced my mind to think so that I didn't succumb to my fears, to the darkness, to prevent myself from becoming mentally unsound.
In the following period of time, I had flashes of incoherent, broken flashes of what appeared to be someone's life; the flashes were mostly fuzzy, silent, and devoid of voices, yet somehow, I understood what transpired. Like I knew the events that took place yet missing out on details, of all those scenes and events none completely immersive yet laden with traces of emotions that made me realise they were memories; potentially my own, and through those memories, my thoughts became more coherent and I came to know a few things about myself.
Trapped in darkness, feeling neither alive nor dead and unaware of the passage of time, those memories became my only companion; they became the threads that kept my sanity together.
Immersing myself in those fragmented flashes of memories, I pieced together the story of a life, a life I would like to believe I've lived, yet remain unsure.
If those memories are mine, then I had a life, an orphaned one; I never knew my parents; I grew up in an orphanage which, like most, was underfunded, life was tough, but it was not like we were struggling to survive. I didn't gather much about my name or habits probably because I saw the world from my perspective, so I was more focused on what I saw and felt than myself.
Life at the orphanage, while tough, made me grow up earlier than my more privileged counterparts; the hardship taught us to think and to work hard, and I worked hard.
By the time I reached my early twenties, my hard work started to pay off. I was successful in life, and I was rich enough to live lavishly for the rest of my life, yet life has a way of tormenting men, for destiny had other plans for me.
Just when life was settling down on the smooth path for me, I came to know I had cancer, and according to the doctors, I had about a year.
The news pulled me to despair palpable even in my fragmented memories, yet like all lost children who find solace in their homes, I too found solace in the only place I called home in my life, the orphanage where I found myself in a drunken stupor, the place I called home.
The matron recognised me and took me in, and I spent the next few weeks there, pulling me out of my despair; there was no grand journey of self-discovery for me, just a slight realisation.
As I spent time in the orphanage, perhaps it was the positivity of those children who were like me that shook away the negativity clouding my mind, and before I knew it, I was peaceful.
It was like a sudden realisation just one day that I had this feeling that it's okay, perhaps it was this changed mindset that made me see things differently, I spent the next month or two dealing with the matters of my company and turned all I could to sustainable wealth and usable funds then I retired.
I decided to spend my leftover life enjoying things I didn't before, and I decided to leave whatever sustainable wealth I had in the name of the orphanage.
I enjoyed my 1-year vacation and died, or maybe I am just strapped to some machine and still alive; who knows?
The whole in and out of consciousness lasted months or years, and I scrapped my option of being strapped to a machine just a few days later; why, you ask, because the air quality is too good compared to anything I had during my life(?) and yet the same fresh air that filled my lungs denied me the certainty of my death.
But as time passed slowly I started to gain more of my senses and as my perception grew I knew
'I was Alive.'