#Rikard Ulyth

[inakoma]

You're bleeding out. Your back slumped against the wall. Reminiscing as your life flashes before your eyes. Tears welling up blurring your vision. Are the tears because you're sad? You thought you were ready for death but seeing your memories like this in your final moments you're realising your life wasn't nearly as shitty as it felt at times. The tears crawling down your face are tears of joy and the new tears welling up to replace them aren't tears of sadness necessarily but tears of longing. There were good times but now there could be no more.

You're losing touch of reality now. Time is no longer linear but rather staccato. Stopping and starting haphazardly. Equally your vision is now unfocused even when you do manage to blink out the tears.

A bright white light appears in your periphery making everything else relatively darker. Your vision now an Instagram vignette photo dialled up to eleventeen. You were never one for praying or believing in God but you reason the gratitude you're feeling at the life you've led and the people in it has evoked the famous mercy of God. The white light approaches you and now it's humanoid shape is apparent.

"Hello", the humanoid whiteness says. It's voice echoing with gravitas and self righteousness.

"Hh-h-hi", you meekly manage to force the single syllable from your lips. The figure stands before you unmoving, as though it's waiting for something. You know what you must do. In your mind you conjure up all the evils you've committed, bringing them to the forefront of your mind to be expelled and gasp out the words you know you've gone too long without saying:

"I-I'm so s-ssorry", the tears are back in full swing but a different flavour from before. Complete and utter surrender. The figure of whiteness crouches down to you. It's featureless head mere inches besides your own. You emotionally brace yourself for the words you've been waiting to hear your entire life. Preparing yourself for the waves of mercy about to permeate through your being, freeing you from your lifetime of suffering. You adjust your head such that your now impaired hearing can pick up the words you pray will set you free:

"I said, I'd like to speak to your manager. I won't repeat myself again. This customer service is terrible. I've been waiting on my pumpkin spice for 10 minutes now. Don't you know some of us have real jobs?"

This is the moment you realise you've encountered a Super Karen. You reach into one of the bullet holes scattered on your chest.

"Are you even listening? Do you know who I am!?", the Super Karen continues. You find yourself thankful for their unrelenting, entitled bickering- without it you know you wouldn't have the strength to do what comes next. You rip your heart from your chest, incidentally flinging it at the Super Karen as your body falls limp.

"This is assault! I'm calling the police!"

But for you reality fades to darkness. At last there are no more tears. No more noise.