As you can imagine, for someone who never really saw the point in existence, death was often on my mind. I was never scared of it. It was never about hell or heaven; it was never a mysterious place to me. I was always sure it’s exactly like before I was born: nothingness. No god tripping on its ego, no punishment for all the wrong reasons, no floating around in complete consciousness. Nothing.

And I never really saw the point in existence, because what I thought to be existence was just a meaningless walk around the Sun, driven only by inertia. On repeat. This scared me, the idea of living an empty, indigo non-life. I guess I lived my life in fear of not actually living it. But I took the liberty of making it my own.

So, hypothetically speaking, if death were no longer hypothetical and I were to suddenly disappear, I know exactly what I don’t want. I don’t care where my ashes land, as long as my body serves science before; I don’t care about useless scenes from people who thought they knew me. I don’t belong to any judgmental cultures nor do I bow to religions whose faith contradicts my values, so I don’t want cut flowers on a blessed grave.

What I do want, is for the people who care about me to plant a tree instead of mourning. In a forest, near a river, wherever it’s needed, wherever they want. Whatever helps the ecosystem or brings them joy.

Too real? Don’t be so intense, it’s hypothetical, remember?